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BY 

California     )  C  ff  flltlltTi 

,egional 

acility  »kbom 

ISa  K    TbEET     ST 


PRICE    ONE    SHILLING. 


THE    BISHOP    AND    THE 
CATERPILLAR  - 

AND     OTHER    PIECES. 


Digitized  by  tlie  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2007  witli  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcli  ive.org/details/bisliopcaterpillaOOmanniala 


THE  J^ISHOP  AND  THE 
CATERPILLAR 

(As  Recited  by  Mr.  Brandram)  PJO 

AND    OTHER    PIECES^        *117-^ 

'  6S 

BY 

MARY     E.    MANNERS 


ILontiott  : 
JAMES  CLARKE  &  CO.,  13  &  14,  FLEET  STREET. 

1892, 


2)ebtcatc& 

(By  Permission) 

TO 

LEWIS    CARROL, 

IN     GRATEFUL     REMEMBRANCE 

OF     MANY     HAPPY     HOURS 

SPENT     IN 

"  WONDERLAND." 


Carrol!     Accept  the  heartfelt  thanks 

Of  children  of  all  ages. 
Of  those  who  long  have  left  their  ranks. 

Yet  still  must  love  the  pages 
Written  by  him  whose  magic  wand 
Called  up  the  scenes  of  "  Wonderland." 


PREFACE. 


The  whole  of  these  poems,  with  the  exception  of 
the  last  four,  will  be  familiar  to  the  readers  of 
The  Boy's  Own  Paper*  having  appeared  at  intervals 
in  the  pages  of  that  periodical,  from  which  they 
are  now  reprinted  by  special  permission.  The 
exceptions  have  been  collected  from  various  sources, 
and  several  have  made  their  de'but  at  the  social 
gatherings  of  an  Essay  Meeting  composed  of 
members  of  the  "Society  of  Friends,"  whose  kindly 
appreciation  first  encouraged  me  to  hope  that  the 
pieces  might  be  found  suitable  for  reading  and 
recitation  by  a  wider  circle  of  friends  (with  or 
without  the  capital  "  F  ").     "  The  Bishop    and   the 

*  The  Boy's  Own  Paper,  which  was  started  by  the  Religious  Tract 
Society,  56,  Paterroster  Row,  to  provide  high-class  literature  for 
boys,  has  long  b(en  quite  a  household  word  in  every  part  of  the 
English-speaking  world. 


viii  PREFACE. 

Caterpillar"    has,   I    understand,   been    largely  used 
for   this    purpose. 

For  the  rest,  my  enjoyment  of  the  mysterious 
title  of  "Anon "  has  been  almost  equal  to  Mark 
Tapley's  wonder  at  finding  himself  transformed 
into  a  "  Co."  ;  but  I  am  told  that  this  dignity  is 
no  longer  a  desirable  one ;  so  it  is  with  even 
greater  pleasure  that  I  subscribe  myself  to  all  who 
are  interested  in  the  matter  as 

Their   sincere  well-wisher, 

MARY    E.    MANNERS. 


CONTENTS. 


The  Bishop  and  the  Caterpillar       

A  Holiday  Story  for  Boys — and  their  Uncles  ! 

Count  Rudolph's  Beard 

Brimmacum's  Umbrella     

Brimmacum's  Wedding      

Pickled  Cockles      

The  Quaker  and  the  Fairy 

A  Romance  of  a  Friend's  Bonnet 

The  King's  Pudding  

Dorothy         


PAGE 
I 

..        II 

...       23 

•••  33 

•••  45 

...  59 

...  69 

...  78 

...  8s 

...  89 


THE    BISHOP    AND    THE 
CATERPILLAR. 


The  Bishop  sat  in  the  Schoolmaster's  chair : 
The  Rector,  and  Curates  two,  were  there, 

The  Doctor,  the  Squire, 

The  heads  of  the  Choir, 
And  the  Gentry  around  of  high  degree, 
A  highly  distinguished  company; 
For  the  Bishop  was  greatly  beloved  in  his  See  ! 

And  there,  below, 

A  goodly  show, 
Their  faces  with  soap  and  with  pleasure  aglow, 
Sat  the  dear  little  school-children,  row  upon  row ; 
For  the  Bishop  had  said  ('twas  the   death-blow   to 

schism). 
He  would  hear  those  dear  children  their  Catechism. 

And  then  to  complete 

The  pleasure  so  sweet 

1 


2         THE  BISHOP  AND   THE   CATERPILLAR. 

Of  these  nice  little  children  so  pretty  and  neat, 
He'd  invited  them  to  a  magnificent  treat ! 
And  filled  were  the  minds  of  these  dear  little  ones 
With  visions  of  cakes,  and  of  "gay  Sally  Lunns," 
Of  oceans  of  tea,  and  unlimited  buns 
(The  large  ones  called   "  Bath,"  not  the  plain  penny 
ones). 

I  think  I  have  read, 

Or  at  least  heard  it  said  : 
"  Boys  are  always  in  mischief,  unless  they're  in  bed." 

I  put  it  to  you, 

I  don't  say  it's  true, 
But  if  you  should  ask  for  my  own  private  view, 
I  should  answer  at  once,  without  further  ado  : 
"  I  don't  think  a  boy  can  be  trusted  to  keep 
From  mischief  in  bed — unless  he's  asleep  1 " 

But  the  Schoolmaster's  eye  hath  a  magic  spell, 
And  the  boys  were  behaving  remarkably  well — 
For  boys  ;  and  the  girls — but  'tis  needless  to  say 
Their  conduct  was  perfect  in  every  way  ; 
For  I'm  sure  'tis  well  known  in  all  ranks  of  society. 
That  girls  always  behave  with  the  utmost  propriety. 

'  Now  the  Bishop  arises,  and  waves  his  hand  ; 
And  the  children  prepared  for  his  questions  stand  ; 


THE  BISHOP  AND   THE   CATERPILLAR.        3 

>"  With  admiring  eyes  his  form  they  scan  ; 
He  was  a  remarkably  fine-looking  man  ! 
His  apron  was  silk  of  the  blackest  dye, 
His  lawn  the  finest  money  could  buy  ; 
His  sleeves  and  his  ruffles  than  snow  were  whiter, 
He'd    his    best     shovel-hat,     and     his     second-best 

mitre. 
With  benignant  glance  he  gazed  around — 
You  might  have  heard  the  slightest  sound  ! — 
With  dignified  mien  and  solemn  look 
He  slowly  opened  his  ponderous  book, 
And  proceeded  at  once  the  knowledge  to  try 
Of  those  nice  little  children  standing  by. 

Each  child  knew  its  name. 
And  who  gave  it  the  same. 
And  all  the  rest  of  the  questions  profound 
Which  his  Lordship  was  pleased  to   the   school   to 

propound. 
Nor  less  did  secular  knowledge  abound. 
For  the  Bishop,  to  his  great  pleasure,  found 
That    they   knew    the   date  when   our   Queen    was 

crowned, 
And  the  number  of  pence  which  make  up  a  pound  ; 
And  the  oceans  and  seas  which  our  island  bound  ; 
That  the  earth  is  nearly,  but  not  quite,  round  ; 
Their  orthography,  also,  was  equally  sound, 


4         THE  BISHOP  AND   THE  CATERPILLAR. 

And  the  Bishop,  at  last,  completely  astound- 

Ed,  cried. 

In  a  tone  of  pride, 
"  You  bright  little  dears,  no  question  can  trouble  you, 
You've  spelled  knife  with  a  k^  and  wrong  with  a  w. 

"  And  now  that  my  pleasing  task's  at  an  end, 

I  trust  you  will  make  of  me  a  friend  : 

You've  answered  my  questions,  and  'tis  but  fair 

That  I  in  replying  should  take  a  share ; 

So  if  there  is  aught  you  would  like  to  know. 

Pray  ask  me  about  it  before  I  go. 

I'm  sure  it  would  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure 

To  add  to  your  knowledge,  for  learning's  a  treasure 

Which  you  never  can  lose,  and  which  no  one  can 

steal  ; 
It  grows  by  imparting,  so  do  not  feel 
Afraid  or  shy. 
But  boldly  try. 
Which  is  the  cleverer,  you  or  I !  " 
Thus  amusement  with  learning  judiciously  blending, 
His  Lordship  made  of  his  speech  an  ending. 
And  a  murmur  went  round  of  "  How  condescend- 
ing !  " 

But  one  bright  little  boy  didn't  care  a  jot 
If  his  Lordship  were  condescending  or  not ; 


THE  BISHOP  AND    THE  CATERPILLAR.        5 

For,  with  scarce  a  pause 
For  the  sounds  of  applause, 
He  raised  his  head, 
And  abruptly  said : 
"  How  many  legs  has  a  Caterpillar  got  ?  " 

Now  the  Bishop  was  a  learned  man, 

Bishops  always  were  since  the  race  began, 

But  his  knowledge  in  that  particular  line 

Was  less  than  yours,  and  no  greater  than  mine  ; 

And,  except  that  he  knew  the  creature  could  crawl. 

He  knew  nothing  about  its  legs  at  all — 

Whether  the  number  were  great  or  small, 

One  hundred,  or  five,  or  sixty,  or  six, — 

So  he  felt  in  a  "  pretty  consid'rable  fix  ! " 

But,  resolving  his  ignorance  to  hide. 

In  measured  tones  he  thus  replied  : 

"  The  Caterpillar,  my  dear  little  boy, 

Is  an  emblem  of  life  and  a  vision  of  joy ! 

It  bursts  from  its  shell  on  a  bright  green  leaf, 

It  knows  no  care  and  it  feels  no  grief" 

Then  he  turned  to  the  Rector  and  whispered  low,  - 

"  Mr.  Rector,  how  many  ?     You  surely  must  know." 

But  the  Rector  gravely  shook  his  head, 

He  hadn't  the  faintest  idea,  he  said. 

So  the  Bishop  turned  to  the  class  again, 

And  in  tones  paternal  took  up  the  strain  : 


6         THE  BISHOP  AND   THE   CATERPILLAR. 

"  The  Caterpillar,  dear  children,  see. 

On  its  bright  green  leaf  from  care  lives  free. 

And  it  eats,  and  eats,  and  grows  bigger  and  bigger, 

(Perhaps  the  Curates  can  state  the  figure  ?)  " 

But  the  Curates  couldn't ;  the  Bishop  went  on. 

Though  he  felt  that  another  chance  was  gone. 

"  So  it  eats,  and  eats,  and  it  grows  and  grows, 
(Just  ask  the  Schoolmaster  if  he  knows.)" 
But  the  Schoolmaster  said  that  that  kind  of  know- 
ledge 
Was  not  the  sort  he  had  learned  at  college. 
"  And  when  it  has  eaten  enough,  then  soon 
It  spins  for  itself  a  soft  cocoon, 
And  then  it  becomes  a  chrysalis — 
I  wonder  which  child  can  spell  me  this  ? 
'Tis  rather  a  difficult  word  to  spell — 
(Just  ask  the  Schoolmistress  if  she  can  tell.)  " 
But  the  Schoolmistress  said,  as  she  shook  her  grey- 
curls, 
"She    considered  such    things  were  not   proper  for 
girls." 

The  word  was  spelled,  and  spelled  quite  right, 
Those  nice  little  boys  were  so  awfully  bright ! 
And  the  Bishop  began  to  get  into  a  fright, 
His  face  grew  red — it  was  formerly  white — 


THE  BISHOP  AND    THE  CATERPILLAR.        7 

And  the  hair  on  his  head  stood  nearly  upright ; 

He  was  almost  inclined  to  take  refuge  in  flight, 

But  he  thought  that  would  be  too  shocking  a  sight  ; 

He  was  at  his  wits'  end — nearly — not  quite, 

For  the  Pupil  Teachers  caught  his  eye. 

He  thought  they  might    know — at   least   he   would 

try- 
Then  he  anxiously  waited  for  their  reply  : 
But  the  Pupil  Teachers  enjoyed  the  fun, 
And  they  wouldn't  have  told  if  they  could  have  done. 

So  he  said  to  the  Beadle,  "  Go  down  in  the  street, 
And  stop  all  the  people  you  chance  to  meet, 

I  don't  care  who, 

Any  one  will  do  ; 
The  old  woman  selling  lollipops. 
The  little  boys  playing  with  marbles  and  tops, 
Or  respectable  people  who  deal  at  the  shops  ; 
The  crossing-sweeper,  the  organ-grinder, 
Or  the  fortune-teller,  if  you  can  find  her. 

Ask  any  or  all, 

Short  or  tall, 
Great  or  small,  it  matters  not — 
How  many  legs  has  a  Caterpillar  got  ?  " 
The  Beadle  bowed,  and  was  oflf  like  a  shot 
From  a  pop-gun  fired,  or  that  classical  arrow 
Which  flew  from  the  bow  of  the  wicked  cock-sparrow. 


8         THE  BISHOP  AND   THE   CATERPILLAR. 

Now  the  Bishop  again  put  on  a  smile, 

And  the  children,  who  had  been  waiting  meanwhile, 

In  their  innocent  hearts  imagined  that  these 

Remarks  applied 

(They  were  spoken  aside) 
To  the  weighty  affairs  of  the  Diocese. 

"  The  Caterpillar  is  doomed  to  sleep 
For  months — a  slumber  long  and  deep. 

Brown  and  dead 

It  looks,  'tis  said, 
It  never  even  requires  to  be  fed  ; 
And,  except  that  sometimes  it  waggles  its  head, 
Your  utmost  efforts  would  surely  fail 
To  distinguish  the  creature's  head  from  its  tail. 

"  But  one  morning  in  spring, 

When  the  birds  loudly  sing, 
And  the  earth  is  gay  with  blossoming  ; 

When  the  violets  blue 

Are  wet  with  dew, 
And  the  sky  wears  the  sweetest  cerulean  hue  ! 

When  on  all  is  seen 

The  brightest  sheen — 
When  the  daisies  are  white,  and  the  grass  is  green  ; 

Then  the  chrysalis  breaks, 

The  insect  awa,kes, — 


THE  BISHOP  AND   THE  CATERPILLAR.         9 

To  the  realms  of  air  its  way  it  takes  ; 

It  did  not  die, 

It  soars  on  high, 
A  bright  and  a  beauteous  butterfly  !  " 

Here  he  paused  and  wiped  a  tear  from  his  eye  ; 
The  Beadle  was  quietly  standing  by, 
And  perceiving  the  lecture  had  reached  its  close, 
Whispered,  softly  and  sadly,  "  Nobody  knows  ! " 

The  Bishop  saw  his  last  hope  was  vain, 

But  to  make  the  best  of  it  he  was  fain  ; 

So  he  added,  "  Dear  children,  we  ever  should  be 

Prepared  to  learn  from  all  we  see, 

And  beautiful  thoughts  of  hope  and  joy 

Fill  the  heart,  I  know,  of  each  girl  and  boy ! 

Oh,  ponder  on  these,  and  you  will  not  care 

To  know  the  exact  allotted  share 

Of  legs  the  creature  possessed  at  its  birth. 

When  it  crawled,  a  mean  worm,  on  this  lowly  earth. 

Yet,  if  you  know  it,  you  now  may  tell, 

Your  answers  so  far  have  pleased  me  well." 

Then  he  looked  around  with  benignant  eye, 
Nor  long  did  he  wait  for  the  reply. 
For  the  bright  little  boy,  with  a  countenance  gay. 
Said,  "  Six,  for  I  counted  'em  yesterday  !  " 


lo       THE  BISHOP  AND    THE  CATERPHLAR. 


Moral. 

**  To  all  who  have  children  under  their  care," 

Of  two  things,  nay,  three  things,  I  pray  you  beware — 

Don't  give  them  too  many  **  unlimited  buns," 

Six  each  (Bath)  is  sufficient,  or  twelve  penny  ones  ; 

Don't  let  them  go  in  for  examination, 

Unless  you  have  given  them  due  preparation. 

Or  the  questions,  asked  with  the  kindest  intention, 

May  be  rather  a  strain  on  their  powers  of  invention. 

Don't  pretend  you  know  everything  under  the  sun, 

Though  your  school-days  are  ended,  and  theirs  but 

begun. 
But  honestly  say,  when  the  case  is  so, 
"  This  thing,  my  dear  children,  I  do  not  know  ;  " 
For  they  really  must  learn,  either  slower  or  speedier 
That  you're  not  a  walking  Encyclopaedia  ! 


A  HOLIDAY   STORY   FOR  BOYS 
-AND  THEIR  UNCLES! 

OR,    KING    HENRY    VIII.    AND    THE    ABBOT    OF 
READING. 


A  LITTLE  boy  stood  gazing  at  a  pastrycook's  fair 

tray, 
Where  tarts,  and  puffs,  and  lollipops  were  spread  in 

sweet  array. 
He  stood  and  gazed,  but  that  was  all,  he  could  not 

purchase  any, 
Because,  like  Simple  Simon,  he  hadn't  got  a  penny  ; 
When  by  there  came  an  uncle,  of  broad  and  portly 

trim, 
And  he  looked  down  at  his  nephew,  and  his  nephew 

looked  at  him. 
"  My  dearest  boy,"  the  uncle  said,  in  solemn  tone  and 

gruff, 
"You  really  don't  think  you  could  eat  all  that  un- 
wholesome stuff  ?  " 


12  A  HOLIDAY   STORY  FOR    BOYS— 

'*  Oh,   uncle  dear,"  in  tones  of  cheer,   that    nephew- 
made  reply, 
*'  I  don't  quite  know  what  I  could  do,  but  I  should 

like  to  try." 
"  Alas,  alas ! "  the  uncle  said,  and  rather  sighed  than 

smiled, 
*'  I  would  I  were  again  a   boy,   an    artless,  happy 

child ! 
What  pure  and  simple  pleasure  from  that  stall  I  then 

might  buy, 
But  now  I   couldn't  touch   a    tart,  and  I    shouldn't 

like  to  try." 
The   nephew   stood  expectant ;  the   uncle    did    not 

mind ; 
So  the  boy  said,  "  Sir,  in  *  Fuller  '  a  prescription  you 

will  find." 
The  uncle  turned  him  homewards  with  a  slow  and 

heavy  tread. 
Then   o'er  a    ponderous   volume    before   him    open 

spread. 
He  sat  and  pored  for  many  hours ;  he  did  not  go  to 

bed  ; 
And  this,  or  something  like  it,  was  the  story  which  he 

read. 

"  Merry  it  is  in  the  good  greenwood. 
When  the  mavis  and  merle  are  singing, 


AND    THEIR    UNCLES!  13 

When  the  deer  sweeps  by,  and  the  hounds  are  in 
cry, 
And  the  hunter's  horn  is  ringing." 
Thus  cries  Sir  Walter,  in  heart-stirring  song, 
And  I  think  you  will  say, 
In  a  general  way, 
That  the  Bard  of  the  North  is  "  no  that  far  wrong." 

But  'tis  not  quite  so  merry, 

Indeed  it  is  very 
Provoking  and  trying,  to  saint  or  to  sinner. 

When  you  find,  to  your  cost. 

That  your  way  you  have  lost. 
And  that  dinner-time's  come,  and  brought  with  it  no 

dinner ; 
While  your  friends  are  so  far  that  nought  'twill  avail  ye 
To  sound  the  wild  mort  or  the  jolly  reveille  I 

For  James  Fitz-James 
The  poet  claims 
That    he    didn't   get    cross    and    call    his     knights 
"names  ;  " 

And  though  it  is  clear 
He  had  some  cause  for  fear. 
And  the  loss  of  his  steed  made  him  feel  rather  queer, 
He  said  nothing   worse  than — "  Beshrew  yon    wild 
deer." 


14  A    HOLIDAY   STORY  FOR    BOYS— 

But  King  Hal  the  Bluff 

Was  of  different  stuff, 
And  his  language  and  manners  were  both  somewhat 

rough, 
So  he  fretted  and  fumed  far  more  than  enough, 
Vowed  his  grand  M.  F.  H.  was  "  a  regular  muff," 
And  declared  that  not  one  of  his  dastardly  train 
Should  ever  go  hunting  with  him  again  ! 

Nor  cooled  was  the  fire 

Of  the  monarch's  ire  ; 
In  fact,  it  flamed  up  considerably  higher. 

When — his  exit  made 

From  the  forest  glade 

And  the  sylvan  shade 
Formed  by  lofty  trees  with  their  branches  spreading. 

He  found  that  his  ride 

Had  been  towards  the  wrong  side, 
And   instead  of  to  Windsor    had    brought    him    to 
Reading  ! 

He  was  burly  and  tall. 

But  he  felt  quite  small, 
As  he  thought  how  that  moment  in  Windsor  Hall, 
The  banquet  was  led  by  the  seneschal. 
And  the  vassals  were  feasting,  one  and  all. 
While  their  lord  and  master  was  far  beyond  call. 


AND    THEIR    UNCLES!  15 

The    thought    was    as    bitter     as    wormwood     and 

gall! 
And  he  wrathfully  muttered,  "  I  call  it  a  shame;  " 
Though  he  knew  he  had  only  himself  to  blame. 
For  that  morn  he  had  tenderly  said  to  his  Kate, 
"  If  I'm  not   home   to   dinner,    love,    pray    do    not 
wait." 

Stay,  though,  I  can't  state 

Precisely  the  date 
Of  my  story,  and  so  I'm  unable  to  fix 

Which  queen  then  did  reign  ; 

If  not  Kate,  'tis  plain 

'Twas  Anne,  or  else  Jane, 
For  their  names  were  but  three,  though  their  number 
was  six. 

Oh,  free  and  fair  is  Reading  town  ! 

And  rich  and  rare  is  her  high  renown 
For  biscuits,  baked  of  a  nice  light  brown  1 

Mixed,  milk,  and  Marie, 

Rural,  rusk,  ratafia, 

Toast,  table,  and  tea. 

Orange,  Osborne,  Oswego,  and  mild  nursery, 
With  many  more  names,  I'll  not  stop  to  rehearse, 
For  colonials  and  captains  won't  fit  in  my  verse  ; 
Yet  I  think  you'll  agree    that   King  Hal  had  been 
calmer 


i6  A    HOLIDAY   STORY  FOR    BOYS— 

If  in  his  knapsack 
He'd  the  forethought  to  pack 
Some  few  dozens  of  these — made  by  Huntley  and 
Palmer. 

But  Palmers  then 

Were  a  sort  of  men 
Who  wore  cockle-shells  and  sandal  shoon  : 

Carried  staves  and  scrips, 

Fed  on  haws  and  hips, 
And  shrank  e'en  from  touching  a  macaroon. 
Quoth  the  King,  with  a  sigh,  as  one  rudely  awaked, 
"  Don't  count  on  your  biscuits  before  they  are  baked." 

But  stay,  oh  stay  ! 

That  abbey  grey. 

On  Forbery  Hill,  not  far  away. 
Was  built,  so  at  least  all  the  guide-books  say. 
By  King  Henry  the  First  (surnamed  Beaiiclerc) 
As  a  penance  for  injuries  done  to  his  Frere 
Duke  Robert,  King  William's  lawful  heir. 

Henry  did  not  choose 

To  wear  peas  in  his  shoes. 
Or  to  walk  barefoot  among  brambles  and  briars. 

So  this  abbey  he  built 

To  atone  for  his  guilt, 
And  left  to  the  rule  of  the  Benedict  Friars. 


AND    THEIR    UNCLES!  17 

The  stately  pile  was  his  glory  and  pride 

While  he  lived,  and  they  buried  him  there  when  he 

died. 
King  Henry  the  Eighth,  now  relieved  from  anxiety. 
Felt  inclined  to  approve  of  his  ancestor's  piety. 

Full  sweet  is  the  sound  of  the  convent  bell 
As  it  ringeth  clearly  o'er  wood  and  dell, 
For  it  speaketh  of  peace,  and  of  calm  repose, 
Of  respite  alike  from  friends  and  from  foes. 
From  courtly  pageants  and  empty  shows, 
From  morning  calls  and  similar  woes, 
From  little  girls  wanting  new  Sunday  clothes. 
And  boys  with  their  boots  always  out  at  the  toes  ! 

On  the  monarch's  ear 

Most  sweet  and  clear, 
With  sound  of  hope  and  presage  of  cheer. 

Fell  the  solemn  swell 

Of  that  abbey  bell. 
For  it  rang  not  for  matins,  nor  yet  for  compline, 
But  it  said  very  plainly,  "  Oh,  come,  come  and  dine." 
And  the  King,  spurring  fast  towards  Forbery  Hill, 
Replied  with  great  fervour,  "  Ay,  marry,  I  will." 

Now  Bluff  King  Hal  was  fond  of  a  joke. 
So  he  took  off  his  crown,  popped  it  into  his  "poke," 
And,  disguising  himself,  merely  sent  in  his  card 

2 


1 8  A    HOLIDAY   STORY    FOR    BOYS— 

As  a  "Yeoman,  one  of  his  Majesty's  Guard," 

And  was  quickly  seated  among  the  rest. 

The  Lord  Abbot's  own  particular  guest. 

"  For,  good  friend,"  thus  remarked  his  lordship's  grace, 

"  Thou  bearest  thy  passport  in  figure  andTace ; 

'Twas  ever  thus,  since  his  reign  began. 

Our  royal  master  loveth  a  man" 

Good  St.  Benedict 

Was  uncommonly  strict, 
And  drew  up  his  rules  with  the  utmost  decorum 
(The  monks  often  thought,  on  purpose  to  bore  'em) 
In  Latin,  the  Regula  Monachorum. 

"  Poor  fellow,  you  know. 

He  lived  long  ago  !  " 
Quoth  the  Abbot,  "  for   our   times  his    notions  are 

'slow.' 
To  adhere  to  these  rules  means  simply  starvation. 
And  I  think  'tis  allowed  to  one  of  my  station 
To  give  to  the  Latin  a  free  translation  !  " 

So  the  King  soon  found 

On  looking  around, 
He'd  no  need  to  complain  of  the  monkish  board  ; 

For  the  table  was  filled. 

Thus  the  Abbot  willed, 
With  all  dainties  the  farm  or  the  field  could  afford. 


AND    THEIR    UNCLES!  19 

There  was  chicken  and  ham, 

And  mint  sauce  and  lamb, 
Good    things   which   no   cook    should    e'er   part    in 
sunder,  but 

What  pleased  the  King  most 

Was  the  knightly  roast, 
A  sirloin  of  beef,  with  a  very  prime  undercut. 
To  make  its  acquaintance  he  was  full  fain, 
'Twas  cut,  and  come,  and  come  again  ! 

The  monks  all  gazed 

At  their  guest  amazed, 
As  his  knife  and  fork  played  a  yeoman's  part  ; 

And  when  finished  at  last 

Was  the  brave  repast. 
The  Abbot  exclaimed  :  "  Well  fare  thy  heart ! 
Come,  pledge  me  now  this  cup  of  sack 
To  thy  master's  health.     May  he  never  lack 
Such  men  as  thou  to  eat  and  to  fight  ! 
If  our  properest  men  must  needs  be  our  chief  eaters. 
The  royal  warrant  was  surely  right 
Which  named  thee  one  of  his  Majesty's  Beef-eaters  1 
An  hundred  pounds  would  I  gladly  pay 
Could  /  make  such  a  meal  as  thou  this  day  ! 

But  alas,  with  me, 
Few  things  will  agree. 


20  A    HOLIDAY  STORY  FOR   BOYS— 

To  touch  solid  meat  is  rarely  my  habit ; 

I  scarce  can  digest 

A  slice  from  the  breast 
Of  a  tender  chicken,  or  little  young  rabbit !  " 
The  King  sympathised,  tried  to  look  tender-hearted. 
Thanked  his  host  for  good  cheer,  and  so  departed. 

Some  weeks  passed  away, 

Then,  one  sorrowful  day 

To  that  abbey  grey 
Came  a  messenger  nobody  dared  disobey  ; 
A  Royal  Pursuivant,  with  warrant  of  power 
To  take  the  Lord  Abbot  at  once  to  the  Tower. 

When  there  he  was  fed 

Upon  water  and  bread  ; 
He  bewailed  his  hard  fate  ;  many  tears  he  shed, 
He  really  did  not  feel  sure  that  his  head 
Was  safe  on  his  shoulders,  so  great  was  his  dread  ; 
And  he  spent  all  his  time  in  trying  to  measure 
The  how  and  the  why  of  the  King's  displeasure. 
Yet  he  felt  a  sensation  of  joy  and  relief, 
A  welcome  diversion  from  sorrow  and  grief, 

When  the  warder  at  last, 

To  end  his  long  fast, 
Brought  in  a  magnificent  sirloin  of  beef. 


AH^D    THEIR    UNCLES!  2i 

Then  forgetting  all  fears  of  bodily  harm, 
He  ate  like  a  farmer  just  fresh  from  the  farm, 
No  longer  he  shrank  from  beef  or  from  mutton  : 
"  Two  hungry  meals  make  the  third  a  glutton." 

King  Hal,  from  a  private  lobby  hard  by, 
On  his  lordship's  actions  had  played  the  spy  ; 
And  now  springing  in,  he  exclaimed  with  glee, 
"  How  now,  my  Lord  Abbot,  right  gladly  I  see 
That  my  patient  is  cured,  so  pay  me  my  fee ! 
An  hundred  pounds  of  good  red  gold 
Must  upon  this  table  be  duly  told, 
Or  the  monks  of  Reading  may  wait  in  vain 
To  welcome  their  Lord  Abbot  home  again." 

The  Abbot,  full  glad  to  be  quit  of  his  fright. 
Obeyed  with  as  good  a  grace  as  he  might ; 
Then  reached  down  his  crozier,  and  put  on  his  mitre. 
And  went  home  with  a  heart  and  a  purse  somewhat 
lighter. 


The  morning  dawns,  the  uncle  yawns,  and  shuts  the 

weighty  book, 
Then   hies  him  to  the  fair  abode   of  the  tempting 

pastrycook  ; 


22  A    HOLIDAY   STORY  FOR    BOYS. 

He  purchases  the  stock-in-trade  of  cakes,  and  tarts, 

and  pies. 
Then  finds  his  gentle  nephew,  and  unto  him  he  cries, 
"  My  dearest  boy,  eat  all  you  can,  and  give  the  rest 

away 
Unto  your  youthful  playfellows,  so  happy  and  so  gay. 
But  oh,  I  pray,  be  moderate,  or  plainly  I  foresee, 
'Tis  you  will  need  the  doctor,  and  who  then  will  pay 

the  fee  ? " 
Three  ringing  cheers  the  uncle  hears,  then  turns  him 

to  depart. 
Yet  beareth   homeward    for   his   share   a   large  red- 
currant  tart ! 


COUNT   RUDOLPH'S   BEARD. 

A     TALE    OF  CHIVALRY. 


Count  Rudolph  von  Ratz  was  a  noble  knight, 

Quite  ready  at  all  times  to  dance  or  to  fight ; 

His  name  was  a  terror  to  every  foe, 

His  battle-axe  dealt  a  most  deadly  blow  ; 

He  usually  fought  with  a  dozen  or  so 

At  once,  but  that  was  the  custom,  you  know. 

In  the  knightly  days  of  long  ago, 

When  to  fight  with  one  man  was  accounted  "low," 

For  a  noble  knight  not  at  all  comma  ilfaut ! 

While  in  softer  mood,  all  the  world  would  agree, 

None  bowed  with  more  courtly  grace  than  he, 

Or  more  featly  served,  on  his  bended  knee, 

The  ladies  at  tennis  or  afternoon  tea. 

In  short,  he  was  equally  loved  and  feared  ; 

And  besides, — he  possessed  such  a  gem  of  a  beard  ! 

'Twas  soft,  and  long. 

And  silky,  and  brown  ; 
The  boast  of  the  country,  the  talk  of  the  town  ; 


24  COUNT   RUDOLPH'S   BEARD. 

The  envy  of  many  a  beardless  youth 

Who  dashed  down  razor,  and  groaned,  forsooth, 

In  wan  despair ! 

For  the  unguents  rare 
Of  Rowland,  Latreille,  or  Professor  Brown 

Could  never  produce 

E'en  by  constant  use 
Such  a  beard  as  grew,  quite  spontaneously, 
On  the  chin  of  Count  Rudolph,  surnamed  the  Free ! 

And  many  a  maid  heaved  a  secret  sigh 

As  the  knight  on  his  coal-black  steed  rode  by  ; 

And  delicate  fingers  would  often  trace 

On  banner  of  silk,  or  cigarette  case. 

The  arms  that  flashed  on  his  silver  shield, 

The  arms  that  none  but  he  might  wield  : 

Two  hairy  oobits  proper  upon  a  verdant  field  ! 

But  little  recked  he, 
'    This  knight  so  free. 
Of  youth  who  frowned,  or  of  maid  who  sighed  ; 
And  he  laughed  out  loud  as  he  gaily  cried, 
"  Come  weal,  or  come  woe,  the  whole  of  my  trade  is 
To  fight  all  the  knights,  and  to  serve  all  the  ladies  ; 
Yet  nor  knight  nor  maiden  of  high  degree 
Shall  e'er  boast  of  the  capture  of  Rudolph  the  Free." 


COUJ^T   RUDOLPH'S   BEARD.  25 

Full  oft  the  pitcher  may  go  to  the  well, 
Yet  one  day  ringeth  its  funeral  knell ! 

And  "  the  god  of  love 

Who  sits  above  " 
(So  Shakespeare  says,  and  he's  always  right) 
Sent  a  shaft  to  the  heart  of  the  careless  knight, 

Who  turned  round  quick 

And,  like  Benedick, 
Thus  all  tiresome  jokes  on  the  subject  parried  : 

"  When  I  vowed  that  I 

Would  a  bachelor  die, 
I  did  not  think  I  should  live  to  be  married  !  " 

On  a  "  castled  crag  "  by  the  "  lonely  Rhine  " 
Dwelt  the  lordly  Baron  von  Blumenstein  ; 
And  henchmen  true 
In  doublets  of  blue, 
Who  mostly  had  nothing  at  all  to  do, 
Stood  waiting  about,  in  doorway  and  hall, 
In  case  the  Baron  should  please  to  call, 
"What  ho,  without  there  !  "  (in  tone  of  dread), 
"  Remove  the  banquet,"  or  "somebody's  head." 
'Twas  all  the  same  to  those  vassals  bold, 
Who  did,  without  murmur,  just  what  they  were  told  ; 
Or   I   trow   there'd   have   been   what  is  termed   "  a 

shine  " 
In  the  stately  halls  of  Blumenstein  ! 


26  COUNT  RUDOLPH'S   BEARD. 

The  Baron  was  blessed  with  a  gentle  wife, 
The  joy  of  his  heart  and  the  pride  of  his  life  ; 
She  never  spoke  word  that  engendered  strife  ; 

But  cabbages  red 

She  pickled  instead, 
She  rose  with  the  lark,  and  went  early  to  bed. 
The  fame  of  her  beer  and  sauer-kraut 
Was  noised  through  the  country  round  about : 
And  the  Baron's  retainers  would  often  vow 
That  no  lord  in  the  land  had  a  better  Haus-frau. 

But  beyond  compare 

Was  the  daughter  fair 
Who  graced  the  home  of  the  worthy  pair. 
She  had  lovely  blue  eyes  and  bright  golden  hair, 
And  plenty  of  frocks  all  of  white  to  wear  ; 
She'd  a  heart  quite  light  and  free  from  care, 
And  cheeks  like  the  blush  on  the  Cath'rine  pear ; 
Such  a  winsome  smile,  such  a  charming  air 
Would  have  softened  the  heart  of  a  grizzly  bear  ; 
And  before  you  had  time  to  say  "  Beware  !  " 
Every  youth  who  beheld  her  began  to  pine 
For  the  love  of  sweet  Hilda  von  Blumenstein. 

I  trow,  there  is  little  need  for  me 

To  tell  any  lover  of  chivalry 
That  this  was  the  lady  of  high  degree 
Who  was  born  to  lead  captive  Rudolph  the  Free. 


COUNT  RUDOLPH'S   BEARD.  27 

Behold  him  now,  as  he  kneels  at  her  feet, 

And  pleadeth  his  cause  in  accents  sweet : 

"  Let  my  love  be  proven,  my  lady  fair. 

Show  me  what  for  thy  sake  I  shall  do  or  dare. 

And  'tis  done  at  once,  whatever  it  be, 

For  thou  alone  rulest  o'er  Rudolph  the  Free." 

The  lady  blushed,  and  the  lady  sighed  ; 
She  knew  that  his  love  would  be  sorely  tried. 
"  Now  lithe  and  listen,  sir  knight,"  quoth  she, 
"  I  claim  no  service  of  bended  knee, 
I  put  thy  love  to  no  simple  test 
Of  doughty  deed  or  of  knightly  quest  ; 
Far  harder  task  must,  I  ween,  be  thine 
Ere  thou  winnest  Hilda  von  Blumenstein." 

"  Now  prove  me,  and  try  me,  my  lady  fair, 
What  man  may  do,  or  what  man  may  dare, 
That  Rudolph  dares,  for  thy  sake,  to  try  ; 
An  he  fail  or  falter,  then  let  him  die." 

Full  sweetly  smiled  that  lady  bright. 

To  hear  the  vow  of  her  gallant  knight  ; 

Yet  ashen  pale  grew  her  lovely  cheek. 

And  vainly  awhile  she  strove  to  speak ; 

But  at  last  came  the    words  which    to   breathe    she 

feared, 
The  tremulous  murmur,  "  Cut  off  thy  beard  !  " 


28  COUNT  RUDOLPH'S    BEARD. 

With  sudden  anger  the  knight  flushed  red, 

"  Nay,  lady  mine,"  he  proudly  said, 

**  Hadst  thou  asked  for  my  heart,  or  my  hand,  or  my 

head, 
The  thing  were  more  quickly  done  than  said  ; 
But  I  trow  'tis  merely  a  mockery 
To  lay  such  command  on  Rudolph  the  Free." 

''Alack  and  alas,"  the  lady  cried, 
"  My  love  for  thee  overcometh  my  pride  ; 
Yet  never  mayst  thou  be  knight  of  mine. 
For  thus  runs  the  legend  of  Blumenstein  : 

"  •  W^^m  a  Iai>2  of  Blumenstein,  fair  anti  firitjl^t, 
Stall  list  to  tlje  lofae  of  a  beartfeti  fenigljt, 
^  erg  s]^all  ie  j&earlj  at  tieati  of  nigi^t, 
2lnl3  fire  anb  flame  rouse  t]^e  toattiers  all 
QTj^at  keep  tljeir  toatcf)  on  \\z  castle  toall !  * 

"Our  castle  is  planned  by  my  lordly  sire. 

Who  feareth  no  foe  save  the  crafty  fire  ! 

In  every  bower  is  a  hand-grenade ; 

In  the  courtyard,  a  volunteer  fire-brigade  ; 

O'er  each  noble  steed,  as  he  standeth  in  stall, 

Hangs  the  harness  ready  at  need  to  fall ; 

In  every  corridor,  I  ween. 

Gleams  the  scarlet  robe  of  the  fire-queen. 


COUNT   RUDOLPH'S    BEARD.  29 

With  her  motto  which  speaketh  to  every  one  : 
'  Place  thine  arms  through  the  straps  and  run.' 
Yet,  I  fear  me  that  all  would  naught  avail, 
Should  Hilda  list  to  thy  flatt'ring  tale." 

"  Now  Fate  divides  us,"  Sir  Rudolph  said, 
"  Were  ever  lovers  so  sore  bested  ? 
For  a  withered  crone  o'er  my  cradle  sung 
This  ancient  rhyme  in  an  ancient  tongue  : 

" '  OSit|[  ]^calt!j  anK  toitl^  strengt]^  tfjo  beartJ  gj^all  jgrofo, 
JJn  fia  antf  flame  'ttoill  banisfj,  E  troto.' 

"  Yet  say  but  the  word,  and  e'en  Fate  I  brave, 
For  Rudolph  the  Free  is  thine  humble  slave." 

"  Nay  now,  nay  now, 

'Twere  vain,  I  trow. 
To  Fate's  decree  to  refuse  to  bow  ; 

An  thou  diedst,"  quoth  she, 

"  All  for  love  of  me, 
I  don't  think  matters  improved  would  be — 
So  I  think,  on  the  whole,  I'll  go  home  to  tea. 
And  I  charge  thee  for  ever  all  hope  to  resign 
Of  wedding  Hilda  von  Blumenstein." 

By  the  castle  gate, 
When  night  fell  late, 
Linger'd  Rudolph  von  Ratz,  in  a  doleful  state  ; 


30  COUNT  RUDOLPH'S   BEARD. 

On  a  Hebrew  harp  he  sadly  played, 

And  he  sang  to  his  lady  a  serenade  ; — 

His  words  and  his   tune  ne'er  had  met  before, 

And  'twere  much  to  be  wished  they  should  meet  no 

more ; 
'Tis  ill  to  sing  when  the  heart  is  sore. 

On  the  ear  of  the  watchful  sentinel 

The  sound  discordant  at  midnight  fell, 

And  he  said  to  himself :  "  This  is  not  well." 

So,  raising  his  crossbow  high  in  the  air. 

He  sternly  demanded,  "Who  goes  there?" 

But  the  knight,  I  suppose, 

Was  lost  in  his  woes, 
And  he  only  longed  to  disturb  the  repose 
Of    the    maiden    who    caused    to    his    heart    such 

throes  ; 
So  he  went  on  chanting  his  tuneless  prayer, 
"  Awake  and  listen,  O  lady  fair  !  " 

I  pause  to  remark 

That  the  night  it  was  dark ; 
And  the  sentinel,  fearing  to  make  a  mistake, 
Came  up  to  the  knight,  gave  his  shoulder  a  shake, 
As  a  gentle  hint  for  the  worst  to  prepare. 
And  repeated  his  query  of  "  Who  goes  there  ?  " 
But  Rudolph  still  called  on  his  lady  fair. 


COUNT  RUDOLPH'S   BEARD.  31 

The  watchman,  his  patience  exhausted  quite, 
Determined  to  view  the  stranger  aright. 
Put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  to  feel  for  a  light, 
Struck  a  match   on  the   box    (it   was   Bryant   and 

May's), 
And  the  beard  of  the  knight  was  soon  in  a  blaze  ! 

A  cry  of  "  fire  "  through  the  still  night  rang. 

Loud  pealed  the   alarm-bell    with    crash   and  with 

clang ; 
And  out  came  pouring  the  warders  all, 
Who  kept  their  watch  on  the  castle  wall. 
In  fifty  seconds,  or  rather  less. 
The  engine  came  dashing  along  express ; 
Quick  the  firemen  saw  where  the  mischief  lay, 
So  they  "  married  their  stand-pipes  "  without  delay, 
And  straight  on  Count  Rudolph  began  to  play. 
While  the  trusty  henchmen  formed  in  a  line 
And  passed  the  buckets  right  up  from  the  Rhine  ; 
And  the  Baron  himself,  his  wife,  and  his  daughter, 
Descended  by  rope-ladders  into  the  water. 

'Twas  a  terrible  rout. 
Though  the  fire  was  put  out 
Ere  Rudolph  quite  knew  what  'twas  all  about ; 
But  alas  and  alack  ! 
A  remnant  black 


32  COUNT  RUDOLPH'S    BEARD. 

Alone  remained,  for  the  world  to  see, 

Of  the  noble  beard  of  Count  Rudolph  the  Free. 

A  passing  sigh  for  that  vanished  grace, 

Count  Rudolph  heaved  for  a  moment's  space  ; 

'Tvvas  a  thousand  pities  he  wasn't  insured, 

But  he  thought,  "  'Tis  an  evil  that  cannot  be  cured, 

So  I  trow  it  will  e'en  have  to  be  endured." 

Then  a  sudden  joy  through  his  bosom  thrilled  ! 

"  Beshrew  me,  the  portents  are  both  fulfilled  ! 

And  no  one's  the  worse,  except  by  a  fright, 

Sir  Rudolph,  no  longer  a  bearded  knight — 

May  claim  the  hand  of  his  lady  bright !  " 

So  he  did.     And  the  bells  rang  right  merrily 

For  the  wedding  of  Hilda  with  Rudolph  the  Free. 


BRIMMACUM'S    UMBRELLA. 


Brimmacum's  our  second  master — he's  rather  a  mild 
sort  of  "  fella," 

But   at   Easter-time   he  went   and  bought  the   gor- 
geous^j-^  umbrella ! 

There's  too  many  syllables  there  for  the  grammar,  I 
must  confess  ; 

But  anything  falling  short  of  those  words  my  feel- 
ings wouldn't  express ! 

'Twas  silk,  with  an  ebony  stick,  and  gold  mounts,  or 
something  as  bright, 

And  topped  up  with  a  jolly  big  ball  of  the  finest 
crocidolite — 

That's  right,  I  know,  for  I  bribed  little  Jones  with  my 
penknife  (I  wanted  to  sell  it), 

To  go   up   to  Brimmacum's  desk  one  day,  and  ask 
him  how  to  spell  it ! 

My !  wasn't  he  mad  ?     But  he'd  have  been  worse  if 
he'd  heard  Briggs  major  reporting, 

"  I    say,   boys,   here's   a   precious    lark  ;    old   Brim- 
macum's going  a-courting." 

3 


34  BRIMMACUM'S    UMBRELLA. 

Well,   the    summer    holidays    came   and   went — we 

always  come  back  a  bit  glum  ; 
But  worse  than  the  newest  homesick  boy  was  poor 

old  Brimmacum. 
That  the  course  of  true  love  hadn't  run  smooth,  was 

plain  to  the  seeing  eye, 
For  his   smart  umbrella  had  disappeared,  and  none 

knew  the  reason  why. 
And   Briggs  did  say — but  Briggs,   I    fear,  for  truth 

doesn't  greatly  care — 
That  he'd  changed  it  away  for  a  diamond  ring,  which 

the  lady  declined  ta  wear. 

I  didn't  go  home   at   Christmas   time  ;    I   went   up 

north  to  see 
The    splendidest   man   that   ever   lived — my  grand- 
father. Squire  Leigh. 
And  didn't  I  have  a  glorious  time,  a  regular  first- 
rate  spree ! 

There  was  skating  and  riding. 
Snowballing  and  sliding, 
And  everything  fine  in  the  way  of  providing  ; 
Turkeys  and  geese, 
Ten  mince-pies  apiece, 
And  carol  singers  unmoved  by  police  ; 
Holly  and  yew. 
And  snapdragon,  too. 
With  a  big  plum-pudding,  all  burning  blue  ! 


BRIMMACUM'S    UMBRELLA.  35 

Hunt  the  slipper  and  blind-man's  buff, 

Figs  and  oranges  quantum  suff. 
(A  piece  of  Latin  no  boy  finds  tough). 

Roast  apples  and  chestnuts,  all  aglow  ; 

Playing  upon  the  old  banjo — 

I    mean    the    boys,    not    the    apples,    you 
know — 

Doing  our  best  to  "jump  Jim  Crow," 

Kissing  under  the  mistletoe 
(But  that's  a  proceeding  I  think  rather  slow). 
Getting  back  forfeits  lost  at  "old  sodger," 
And  then — Aunt  Lucy  struck  up  "  Sir  Roger." 

Aunt  Lucy's  capital  fun  when  nobody  else  is  by  ; 
She  likes  a  lark  as  well  as  a  boy,  if  it's  only  done  on 

the  sly ; 
But  when  there  are  other  fellows  about — big  grown- 
up fellows  I  mean — 
She  puts  on  all  her  fine  lady  airs,  and  remembers 

she's  turned  eighteen  ; 
And  instead  of  waiting  upon  a  chap,  and  putting  his 

specimens  right. 
She  expects  him  to  dangle  after  her,  and  be  what 

she  calls  "  polite  !  " 
So  when  the  dancing  and  stuff  began,  I  wasn't  going 

to  stay ; 
I   saw  Aunt   Lucy   looking  for  me,   and    I   quietly 

slipped  away. 


36  BRIMMACUM'S    UMBRELLA. 

I  went  to  call  on  the  keeper— his  name  is  old  Joe 

Tupper  ; 
I  thought  I'd  have   a  good  talk  with  him,  and  get 

back  in  time  for  supper. 

I  love  to  talk  to   old  keeper   Joe,   because  he   can 

always  tell  a 
Good  tale  about  hunting  or  fishing,  or,  what  I  like 
almost  as  well,  a 

Ghost  story  that  might 

Make  your  hair  stand  upright. 
And  give  you  the  "  creeps  "  for  the  rest  of  the 
night ; 

A  terrible  tale  of  a  woman  in  white, 

With  golden  hair  and  eyes  as  bright 

As  the  newest  thing  in  electric  light. 
Which  wildly  gleam  o'er  flood  and  fell — a 

Story  of  fear 

For  the  time  of  year  ; 
But  the  only  thing  I  did  not  think  to  hear 
Was  the  story  of — Brimmacum's  best  umbrella. 

There  it  stood  on  the  cottage  floor. 
The  very  first  thing  my  eyes  before, 
When,  stealing  away  from  that  wild  uproar. 
I  gently  opened  the  keeper's  door ! 
It  looked  at  me  with  an  eye  severe  ; 
I  fell  back,  muttering,  "  This  is  queer." 


BRIMMACUM'S    UMBRELLA.  37 

But,  growing  bolder,  I  ventured  near. 
Saying,    "  How   in   the   world    did    you    get 
here  ?  " 

Then  keeper  Joe,  rising,  cheerily  said, 
"I'm  main  glad  to  see  thee,  Maister  Fred. 
Cum,  sit  thee  down,  and  I'll  tell  thee  t'  story 
O'  that  there  umbrella  what's   stannin'   afore 

thee." 
I  obeyed  his  behest  right  cheerfully, 
And  I'll  tell  you  the  tale  as  'twas  told  to  me. 

"  Miss  Lucy,  thou  knows,  she  cum  back  fra  school 

chock  full  o'  all  sorts  o'  knowledge  ; 
But  all  th'  lot  on't  wurn't  no  use — she  wanted  to  go 

to  t'  college. 
The  lasses  i'   my   young  days,  Maister  Fred,  they 

hadn't  so  far  to  seek  ; 
They'd  nobbut  one  tongue,  and  they  used  it — they 

wanted  no  Latin  nor  Greek  ; 
They  looked  arter  housekeepin'  matters,  they  baked 

t'  puddin's  and  t'  pies. 
And  if  ivver  their  tongues  did  fail  'em,  why,  they 

made  it  up  with  their  eyes. 
But  t'  squire  got  a  schoolmaister  fella  to  cum  i'   th' 

holiday  time, 
And    he    wur    a-teachin'    Miss    Lucy   thro'    all    th' 

summer's  prime. 


38  BRIMMACUM'S    UMBRELLA. 

Aye,  but  Miss  Lucy's  a  scholard,  and  she  went  at  it 

right  smart ; 
And  it  tuk  her  just  no  time  at  all  to  get  all  his  books 

by  heart. 
'Twould  ha'   done  ye  good  to  hear  'em  talk  o'  the 

glorious  *  Tragic  Three ' ; 
But  th'  thing  as  puzzled   me  most  o'   all  were  th' 

wondrous  *  Attic  Bee.' 
Thinks  I, — *  I  beant  no  scholard,  and  he's  got  th' 

mathematics ; 
But  I  don't  believe  as  his  bees  'ud  thrive,  if  he  kep' 

'em  up  i'  the  attics !  ' 
Yet  howsomedivver  that    might^be,  there  wurn't  no 

lack  o'  honey. 
And  their  books  was  alius  a-preachin'  up  the  wuth- 

lessness  of  money. 
For  money  can't  gi'e  happiness  ' — ^thinks  I,  '  That's 

pretty  plain ; 
Umbrellas  don't   bring    t'sunshine,    but   they   helps 

to  keep  out  t'  rain.' 
Then  he  tuk  her  out  i'  the  park  o'  nights,  and  he  larnt 

her  t'  names  o'  t'  stars, 
And  he  tauld  her  which  wur  Venus,  and  which  wur 

Cupid  and  Mars  ; 
And    they  went   a-streakin'  about  i'  th'  lanes   in    a 

manner  most  surprisin'. 
And  they  brought  home  a  heap  of  rubbishly  weeds, 

and  said  they  wur  botanizin'. 


BRIMMACUM'S    UMBRELLA.  39 

They   calls    him    Miss    Lucy's    "  coach," '   says    I 

*  missus,  but  dosta  know  ? 
If  they'd  on'y  gi'en  him  to  me  to  name,  I'd  ha'  called 

him  Miss  Lucy's  beau.' 
And  so  fur  a  week  or  two,  thou  knows,  he  had  it  all 

his  own  way  ; 
But  then  t'  auld  house  begun  to  fill  wi'  folks  as  had 

cum  to  stay. 
Miss  Lucy  kep'  up  wi'  her  lessons,  as  in  course  she 

wur  bound  to  do. 
But  he  fun  hissen  at  loose  ends  like,  arter  they'd 

gotten  thro'  ; 
For  he  wurn't  at  home  a-top  on  a  horse,  and  wur 

mortal  feared  on  a  gun  ; 
And  Miss  Lucy  went  off  wi'  her  cousins,  and  he  wur 

clean  out  o'  t'  fun. 
So  he  turned  quite  sulky-like,  and  cum  off  a-fishin', 

ye  see. 
And  he  thought  he'd  show  off  his  larnin',  and  hev  it 

out  wi'  me  ; 
But,  bless  ye,  I  knows  a  sight  o'  things,  so  I  wurn't 

taken  aback, 
For  Trigonometry  beant  no  use  when  ye're  gettin'  a 

barn  to  thack ; 
And  I  onct  heard  Miss  Lucy  say  to  him — she  knowed 

she  wur  talkin'  treason, 
'You  men  invented  logic  fur  to  hide  your  want  o' 

reason.' 


40  BRIMMACUM'S    UMBRELLA. 

Well,  he  sets  hissen  down  alongside  o'  me,  and  maks 

believe  to  fish, 
(Ye  might  put  all  the  trout  as  he  ivver  caught  in  a 

very  small-sized  dish). 
Then  all  on  a  sudden  he  bursts  out,  vvi'out  the  least 
apology : 

Says  he,  '  Joe, 

Dosta  know 
Aught  about  Chro-nology  ? ' 

Says  I,  '  Nay, 

I  can't  rightly  say. 
As  I  ivver  did  much  i'  that  sort  o'  way.' 
'  Aye,  that's  a  terrible  pity,'  says  he  ; 
*  It's  a  very  gran'  science,  Chro-nol-o-gy. 
It  taks  in  all  creeturs,  great  and  small, 
The  fishes  that  swim  and  the  beasties  that  crawl. 
And  shows  ye  some  things  as  ye  can't  see  at  all ; 

"  '  It  classifies  ants,  and  blue-bottle  flies. 

And  teaches  ye  how  to  make  use  on  your  eyes.* 

Thinks  I  to  mysen,  '  Ah,  thou  may  boast, 

I  can  see  as  far  thro'  a  mileston'  as  most, 

Tho'  I  ne'er  i'  my  life  set  foot  in  a  college.'     He 

Goes  on,  wi'  a  laugh, 

'  'Twould  take  thee  half 
O'  the  rest  o'  thy  life  to  larn  Chronology ; 
But  I'll  lend  thee  a  hand,   if  to  larn  't  thou'rt 

wishin'.' 


BRIMMACUM'S    UMBRELLA.  41 

'  Thou  don't  say  so,'  says  I ; 

'Well,  I  think  I'll  none  try, 

So  I'll  e'en  get  along  wi'  my  fishin'.' 

"  Just  then  I  landed  a  fine  fat  trout, 

And  t'  schoolmaister  thought  as  I'd  cut  him  out ; 

So,  as  soon  as  t'  fish  vvur  fairly  caught, 

^  Joe,'  he  begins,'  '  dosta  know  aught 

O'  t'  science  o'  Phrenolo-gy  ? ' 

Says  I  to  he, 

'  What  might  that  be  ? 
I  doubt  'twould  be  summat  too  strong  for  me.* 
^  Oh,  that,'  says  he,  '  rings  i'  th'  student's  ears 
Th'  wonderful  music  of  the  spheres  ; 
And  numbers  the  countless  orbs  that  stray 
Thro'  the  trackless  path  o'  the  Milky  Way  ; 
It  shows  how  the  planets  in  order  run  ; 
It  weighs  the  earth,  and  it  measures  the  sun. 
With  a  science  exact,  that  never  fails.' 
Thinks  I,  '  But  I'd  like  to  look  at  them  scales  ! ' 

"  '  It's  a  gran'  thing,  ye  see. 

Is  Phrenolo-gy. 
'Twould  tak  half  thy  lifetime  to  larn  't,'  says  he. 
Says  I,  'I'm  afeard  it's  no  good  wishin', 

Fur  as  yet  I  ne'er 

Had  that  time  to  spare, 
So  I'll  e'en  get  along  wi'  my  fishin'.' 


42  BRIMMACUM'S    UMBRELLA. 

"  Then   he   drops   his   rod,  of  its   weight  com- 

plainin', 
Puts  up  his  umbrella,  and  thinks  it's  rainin', 

Wonders  why  he  cum, 

Thinks  he'll  go  home, 
Then  all  on  a  sudden,  *  Joe,'  he  cries, 

'  Open  thy  eyes. 
That  flower  o'  the  rock's  a  splendid  prize  ! 

I  mun  get  it  fur  her  ; ' — 

I  didn't  stir, 
It  wurn't  no  manner  o'  use  to  me. 
*  Why,  Joe,'  a'most  in  a  passion,  cries  he, 
'  Thou  cannot  know  Ornitholo-gy  ; 
That  tells  ye  the  name  o'  each  flower  as  blows, 
From  the  daisy  pied  to  the  blushing  rose  ; 
It  puts  each  plant  o'  thy  cottage  border 
Into  its  proper  system  and  order  ; 
And  by  its  help  ye  can  easily  settle 
Which  part  is  the  stamen  and  which  is  the  petal. 
Aye,  sad  indeed  must  thy  lack  o'  knowledge  be ! 
'T would  tak'  half  thy  life  to  larn  Ornithology  ! ' 
Says  I,  *  Fur  larnin'  I'm  alius  a-wishin', 

When  I've  naught  else  to  do  ; 

But  I  think  that  noo 
'Twould  be  best  fur  me  t'  get  on  wi'  my  fishin' ! 

**  Then  he  gangs  a-slitherin'  about  them  rocks ; 
But  t'  flower  all  his  tewin'  and  moilin'  mocks, 


BRIMMACUM'S    UMBRELLA.  43 

And  afore  I  'xactly  sees  what  he's  arter, 

He  pitches  head-foremost  into  t'  water ! 

But,  as  luck  would  hev'  it,  that  smart  umbrella 

(A  long  sight  too  smart  fur  a  schoolmaister  fella) 

Sticks  fast  i'  t'  rocks,  so  he  holds  on  tight, 

And  he  hollers  fur  me  wi'  all  his  might. 

Thinks  I,  '  Thy  larnin's  a  poor  apology.' 

'  Schoolmaister,'  says  I, 

'  Didst  ivver  try 
To  larn  t'  science  o'  Swimology? ' 

Says  he,  *  No  ; 

Mak'  haste,  Joe ; 

If  you  don't  be  quick  I  shall  hev'  to  let  go.' 
Says  I,  as  I  plunged  i'  th'  stream  like  winkin', 
And  landed  him  drippin'  upon  the  shore, 
*  If  I  hadn't  lookt  sharp  'twou'd  ha'  tuk  thee 

more 
Nor  the  WHOLE  o'  thy  life  to  larn  that,  I'm 

thinkin' ! ' 

"  Yet  he  wur  a  plucky  chap,  arter  all,  fur  he  cum  back 

t'  next  day. 
And  pulled  that  flower  fur  Miss  Lucy,  but  I  think  she 

said  him  nay  ; 
Leastwise,   he  seemed  down-hearted  like,  when  he 

cum  to  say  good-bye  ; 
But  mebbe  he  couldn't  mak'  up  his  mind,  and  so  wur 

afeard  to  try. 


44  BRIMMACUM'S    UMBRELLA. 

He  wanted  to  gi'e  me  a  fi'-pun  note,  and  that's  how 

it  cum  to  pass 
As  he  left  me  his  smart  umbrella,  fur  I  wouldn't  ha' 

none  on  his  brass. 
So  I've  got  it  fur  a  keepsake,  fur  I  really  tuk  it  kind 
On   him  to   be   so   anxious  fur   t'  improvin'  o'   my 

mind  ! " 

I  told  Aunt  Lucy  the  story,  but  she  didn't  see  the 

fun, 
Though  I  left  out  all  the  levering,  as,  of  course,  Joe 

should  have  done. 
And  though  I  didn't  mention  names — a  fact  I  can 

aver, 
She  cried  because  old  Brimmacum  had  risked  his  life 

for  her ! 
Well,  girls  are  the  queerest  creatures,  that's  all  I've 

got  to  say ; 
And  I  think  (but  you  mustn't  let  it  out,  or  hint  it  in 

any  way, 
'Tis  a  secret  I've  never  told  before,  not  e'en  to  my 

nearest  chum) 
That  very  soon   I  shall  have   to   speak — of — **  My 

Uncle  Brimmacum." 
I  think  'twill  be  rather  jolly,  you  know,  for  he  isn't 

half  a  bad  "  fella," 
And  my  wedding  present   to  him  shall  be  another 

fine  umbrella  ! 


BRIMMACUM'S  WEDDING. 


When  Christmas-time  came  round  again,  and  flung 

o'er  hill  and  lake 
A  veil  of  snow,  like  frosting  on  a  jolly  rich   plum- 
cake  ; 
And   Winter,  like  a  pastrycook,  the  ice  was  deftly 

spreading. 
Aunt  Lucy  sent  me  a  silver  card  to  bid  me  to  Brim- 

macum's  wedding. 
There  were  two  little  hearts  in  the  corner,  instead  of 

a  postage-stamp  ; 
And   Hymen   larking   round  with  his    torch,  which 

looked  like  a  bicycle  lamp  ; 
And  ivy  (that  means  Fidelity)  with  true-lovers'  knots 

in  a  bow : 
"When  I  make  up  my  mind  to  get  married,  I  won't  be 

so  spoony,  I  know. 

Aunt   Lucy   wrote,    "Dearest  Freddie"  {Freddie!  I 

was  in  a  rage), 
"  I  thought  you  might  like  to  come,  dear,  and  be  my 

sweet  little  page  !  " — 


46  BRIMMACUM'S    WEDDING. 

Now  I    don't  care  much  for   pages,  they're   mostly 

dressed-up  girls, 
With   lace  furbelows  and  collars    and  a  lot  of  un- 

cropped  curls, 
And  they   hang  about  with  the   horses,  instead   of 

going  to  fight ; 
So  I  thought,  all  things  considered,  I'd  rather  be  a 

knight. 
Briggs  major  chaffed  me  awfully  ;  said  he,  "  It's  jolly 

grand 
To  be  Brimmacum's  boy  in  buttons,"  which  of  course 

I  couldn't  stand. 

So   we  two  concocted  a  pretty  note,  which  said  I'd 

gladly  come 
And  shed  the  light  of  my  presence  on  Mrs,  Brim- 

macum ; 
But  if  'twas  all  the  same  to  her,  for  reasons  I'd  not 

explain, 
I'd  rather  be  H.  M.  Stanley,  or  Allan  Quatermain  ; — 
Or,  if  she  went  for  the  classics,  as  far  as  I  could  tell. 
Why,  Ajax  or  Dick  Turpin  would  suit  me  just  as 

well! 

But  my  brilliant  suggestions  experienced  a  rebuff. 
For  she  thought  the  last-named  gentlemen  a  little 

bit  too  rough. 
And  of  juvenile  explorers  she'd  really  had  enough  ; 


BRIMMACUM'S    WEDDING.  47 

I  didn't  think    Aunt    Lucy  remembered    things    so 

long,— 
To  rake  up  a   fellow's   sins  like  that,  is  downright 

mean  and  wrong. 
She  was  hinting  at  that  afternoon  we  started  for  the 

Cape, 
Got  shipwrecked  in  the  greenhouse,  and  cleared  off 

every  grape. 
Old  Joe  said,  "  Boys  is  varmint  " — but  I  forgave  him 

then  ; 
I  know  he's  not  the  sort  of  chap  to  bring  things  up 

again. 

So,  after  all,  it  was  settled  I'd  better  be  myself. 
And  then   (at  the  end  of  the  term,  you  know,  one's 

apt  to  be  short  of  pelf, 
But  the  mater  came  down  handsome,  she  thought  it 

very  nice) 
I  bought   a   fine   umbrella,  and    I  stuffed  it  full  of 

rice  ; 
And  I  made  old  Brimmacum   promise,  whatever  was 

the  weather, 
He  wouldn't  put  it  up  until  his  bride  and  he  were 

together  ! 
It  was  the  tallest  kind  of  a  joke,  because,  you  see,  it 

appears 
They'd   agreed  to  pretend  they'd  been    married  for 

any  amount  of  years  ; 


48  BRIMMACUM'S    WEDDING. 

And  nobody  had  the  least  notion  they  were  out  orr 

their  honeymoon 
(Folks  must  have  been  precious  stupid,  for  I  lay  they 

did  nothing  but  spoon). 
But,  one  day,  when  lots  of  swells  were  round,  it  came 

on  to  rain, — in  a  trice 
Up  went  that  smart  umbrella,  and  out  fell  a  shower 

of  rice  ! 
Oh !  didn't  the  people  chaff  them,  and  there  was  no 

end  of  a  spree  ! 
And  the  credit  of  that  transaction  was  entirely  due  tome. 

But  there,  as  the  bookwriting  fellows  say,  "  we  must 

not  anticipate." 
I    reached  Leigh  Hall  "  the  day    before,"  which   I 

thought  was  rather  late  ; 
Still,  I  had  my  share  in  the  scrimmage,  for,  after  a 

minute's  doubt, 
Grandmother  said   that  Ethel  and  I   might  set  the 

presents  out — 
Ethel's  the  youngest  bridesmaid  ;  we  had  a  bit  of  a 

wrangle, 
She   called   old  Brimmacum  "  a  duck,"    because  he 

gave  her  a  bangle  ; 
And  she  was  uncommonly  wild  with  me,  though  it 

wasn't  the  slightest  use. 
When  I  said  I  didn't  know  much  about  ducks,  but  I 

fancied  she  was  a  goose ! 


BRIMMACUM'S    WEDDING.  49 

Well,  we  made  it  up  in  a  little  while, 
Then  settled  to  work  in  first-rate  style  ; 

We  wrote  some  neat  little  labels,  and  counted  them 
up  when  we'd  done  ; 

And  the  glorious  sum  total — was  three  hundred  and 
sixty-one ! 

Presents  aren't  half  a  bad  invention — 

Just  a  few  I  should  like  to  mention  : 

A  patent  contrivance  for  drawing  a  cork, 

Three  dozen  spoons  and  a  toasting-fork  ; 

Knives  for  carving  and  eating  fishes, 

And  fifteen  designs  in  butter-dishes  ; 

A  silver  "  grid  "  for  frying  your  steak. 

And  little  twin  baskets  for  wedding-cake  ; 

A  set  of  sermons  from  Uncle  Draper 

(He'd   better     have    sent    the    "  Boy's    Own 

Paper  ")  ; 
Bowls  and  plates,  and  such  like  crocks, 
Garden-rollers,  and  chiming  clocks  ; 
The  stunningest  sort  of  a  writing-table, 
Six  pen-wipers  from  baby  Mabel ; 
Scuttles  for  coals,  and  silver  lamps, 
And  the  Wonderland  Case  for  postage-stamps  ; 
Brooches  and  bracelets  set  with  jewels, 
And  heaps  and  heaps  of  things  in  crewels, 
Which  Ethel  tremendously  admired, 
Though  the  very  sight  of  them  made  me  tired. 

4 


50  BRIMMACUM'S    WEDDING. 

Up  to  this,  we'd  behaved  with  the  greatest  pro- 
priety, 
But  now  I  proposed  that,  by  way  of  variety, 
A  little  amusement  might  intervene, 
So  I  popped  the  pug  in  the  soup-tureen, 
And  suggested  the  wall-pocket  lined  with  satin 
Was  exactly  the  place  to  hide  the  cat  in  ! 
I'd  just  accomplished   my  dearest  wish 
By  putting  a  mouse  in  the  muffin-dish. 
When  the  ink- stand  went  and  toppled  over. 
So  I  stopped  the  stream  with  a  table-cover  ; 
But  Ethel  cried  out,  "  Oh  dear,  oh  dear  ! 
That's  the  gift  of  the  Lady  Delamere  !  " 
'Twas  plain  I'd  got  into  an  awful  mess. 
So  I  thought  I'd  better  go  and  confess ; 
But,  though  perhaps  'twas  a  trifle  mean, 
I  couldn't  help  feeling  more  serene 
When  Granny  came  peering  round  the  screen. 
She  gazed  awhile  on  that  Stygian  scene. 
And  then  only  said,  very  soft  and  low. 
She  thought,  on  the  whole,  I  had  better  go 
And  pay  a  visit  to  keeper  Joe 
(Just  to  keep  me  out  of  a  scrape,  you  know), 
While  she  and  Ethel  set  matters  straight 
That  cleared  my  mind  of  a  heavy  weight 
And  I  feel  at  liberty  to  state 
That  the  damage  wasn't  so  very  great. 


BRIMMACUM'S    WEDDING.  51 

As  I  drew  near  to  the  cottage-door,  Old  Brimmacum 

walked  away ; 
Cried  Joe,  "  I'm  fain  to  see  thee,  lad,  and  hopes  thou 

bee'st  cum  to  stay ! 
Says  I  to  th'  missis,  '  He's  sewer  to  cum,  or  else  thou 

may  ca'  me  dunce.' 
Schule-maister's  bin  argufyin'  wi'  me  as  a  man  can't 

luv  but  once  ; 
Says    I,    wi'    my   face   pulled    straight-like,   tho'    I 

laughed  a  bit  i'  my  sleeve, 
*  Maister,  an  true  luv  cums  but  onc't,  there's  a  sight 

o'  mak'-believe ! ' 
But  theer,  what  can  ye  'spect  of  a  chap  o'  th'  eve  on 

his  weddin'-day  ? 
When  folk  is  bent  on  coortin',  they're  apt  to  be  tuk 

i'  that  way." 

Here  I  broke  in  with,  "  Joe,  I  say. 

You've  led  me  astray, 

You  told  me  Aunt  Lucy  had  said  him  *  nay ! ' " 

Joe  answered  me  in  his  solemn  way, 
"jMaister  Fred,  an  thou  lives  long  eneugh,  it's  sartin 

thou  wilt  find 
A  woman's  none  a  woman,  if  she  doesn't  chaange 

her  mind  ! 
That  minds  me  on  a  story  as  chanced  i'  my  young  days ; 
Cum,  sit  thee  down  and  hear  it;  I'll  mak'  t'  fire  t'  blaze. 


52  BRIMMACUM'S  WEDDING. 

"  Sally  and    Sam,  when  I  wur  young,   had   coorted 

mony  a  year, 
And  a'  th'  folk  they  wished  'em  well  as  knovved  'em, 

far  and  near. 
An'   they  wur  happy,  I'll  be  boun',  as  any  lark  as 

sings  ; 
For  Sally  wur  a  gradely  lass,  as  knowed  the  mak'  o' 

things, 
An'  Sam  nor  all  th'  other  lads  wur  taller  by  th*  head  ; 
An'  'twas  th'  talk  o'  t'  village  as  they  wur  boun'  to 

wed. 
Now,  on  a  summer's  evenin',  when  t'  farm-work  wur 

all  done, 
They  walked  togither,  arm-in-arm,  and  Sam  he  thus 
begun  : 

'  Sally,'  says  he, 
'  Thee  an'  me 
'S  been  a  coortin'  a  goodish  bit,  hanna  we?' 
Sally  blushed  and  smiled  and  looked  away  ; 
She  thought,  in  course  he  wur  goin'  to  say, 
'  My  lass,  now  I  wants  thee  to  name  t'  day.' 
And  so  she  wur  summat  taken  aback. 
When  he  went  on  quite  anither  tack. 
'  Hey,  we've  been  a  coortin'  a  longish  bit — but  'tis 

over'd  now,  I  find  ; 
So  I  thought  I'd  cum  an'  tell  thee  as  I  ha'  chaanged 
my  mind.' 


BRIMMACUM'S    WEDDING.  53 

"At  fust  she  thought  he  wur  makin'  fun, 
So  she  laughed  and  said, '  Now,  Sam,  ha'  done. 
Thou  needn't  be  tryin'  it  on  wi'  me, 
Thou  knaws  I'd  nivver  think  ill  o'  thee. 
Thou's  nivver  had  no  'casion  for  sayin'  aught  o'  t' 
kind.' 

*  Eneugh   for   thee   to   knaw,'   says    Sam,   '  as    I  ha' 

chaanged  my  mind.' 

"Then   Sally   she   wur    downright   mad — and    sma' 

blame  too,  says  I — 
She'd  a  spice  o'  temper,  as  lasses  have  as  is  smart 

and  neat  and  spry  ; 
'  Thou  ill-contrive't  waistril,  I  wunder  thou's  th'  face — 
Thou  knaws  t'  folk  '11  cry  thee  shame  thro'-out  th' 

hull  o'  t'  place. 
To  talk  sich  stuff  as  that  to  her  thou's  walked  out 

wi'  so  long ; 
Thou'dst  better  chaange  thy  mind  agen,  for  sewer 

thou's  chaanged  it  wrong.' 

"  Hey,  she  gev'  him  a  tung-lashin',  a  regilar  set-down. 
But  Sam  wur  nivver  daunted  by  any  woman's  frown  ; 
He  let  her  talk  till  she  wur  tired,  and  then,  *  My  lass,' 
says  he, 

*  I've  tauld  thee  as  I've  chaanged  my  mind,  and  that's 

eneugh  for  thee.' 


54  BRIMMACUM'S    WEDDING. 

**  Now,  Sally  she  begun  to  see  as  tantrums  wouldn't  do  ; 
So  next  she  tried  clandoodlin' — and  well  she  did  it, 

too. 
(I  fun'  it  out  at  siwenteen,  and  I'll  say  't  at  nigh 

three-score. 
When  a  woman  tak's  to  clandoodlin',  a  man  may  as 

well  gi'e  o'er.) 

*  Nay,  Sam,  thou    nivver   means   it,'   says   she,  and 

drops  a  tear ; 

*  We  two  ha'  luvved  each  other  for  well-nigh  sivven 

year, 
An'  we  broke  t'   lucky  sixpence,   and   vowed  we'd 

nivver  part ; 
I    nivver   thought   as   thou   wouldst   go  and  try  to 

break  my  heart ! 
An'  if  thou  goes  and  leaves  me  now  I'll  lay  me  down 

and  dee.' 
I'm  soft  as  a  boiled  turnip  if  a  lass  but  wets  her  e'e, 
But  Sam  he  didn't  care  a  smite,  he  wurn't  that  mak' 

o'  stuff— 

*  I've  chaanged  my  mind,  I  tell  thee,'  says  he,  '  and 

that's  eneugh.' 

"  Now  when  clandoodlin'  failed  her,  she  knaw'd  what 

to  be  at. 
She  went  and  tuk  to  strathegy — and  woman's  good 

at  that. 


BRIMMACUM'S    WEDDING.  55 

I'm    stronger    nor    th'    missis,   and   wiser    too,    no 

doubt ; 
But  when  she  taks  to  strathegy,  she  beats  me  out 

and  out. 

"  Sally  dreed  her  e'en,  and  smoothed  her  hair  ; 
And  med'  believe  as  she  didn't  care. 
'Well,  Sam,'  says  she, 
'  It's  nowt  to  me, 
I'm  thinkin'  there's  plenty  o'  fish  i'  th'  sea  ; 
But  what  dosta  think  folk  '11  say  o'  thee  .-' 
Now  tho'  thou'rt  as  bad  a  lot  as  can  be, 
And  hast  seemin'ly  lost  all  thy  luv  for  me, 
I  can't  forget  as  I  onc't  luvved  thee  ; 
So  I've  a  plan,  an'  if  thou'U  agree, 
Th'  blame  on  t'  partin'  shall  fall  on  me — 
Tvvould  nivver  do  for  a  likely  lad  to  leave  a  lass  i' 

the  lurch. 
Thou  mun  go  and  see  t'  parson,  and  hav'  us  asked  i' 

church  ; 
An'  thou  mun  nivver  cheep  a  word  o'  all  as  thou  hast 

said, 
An'  things  '11  go  on  just  as  tho'  we  still  were  boun'  to 
wed. 

"  *  An'   then  t'  parson  he'll  begin   to  tie  us  up  for 

life, 


56  BRIMMACUM'S    WEDDING. 

"  Sam,   wilta   ha'   this   woman   to    be    thy   wedded 

wife, 
To  luv*  an'  keep  an'  cherish  her  thro'  good  report  and 

ill  ?  " 
And  thou  mun  then,  as  bauld  as  brass,  mak'  answer 

"Ay,  I  will." 
And  then  'twill  be  my  turn,  thou  knaws,  an'  he'll  cum 

to  me  and  say, 
"Sally,  wilta  ha'  this  man,  to  honour  and  obey?  " 
And  I  shall  toss  my  head  as  tho'  I  luvved  thee  ne'er 

a  jot, 
And  say  out  loud  afore  folk,  "  Nay,  maister,   I  will 

not." 

So  then  wi'  me 
The  fault  will  be. 
And  none  o'  t'  blame  will  lig  o'  thee.' 

"  Now  Sam   he   thought  'twur  just   as   well  as   she 

should  ha'  th'  blame, 
So  long  as  he  could  get  his  way,  and  leave  her  all  th' 

same. 
So  he  went  and  put  th'  axins  up,  and  when  th'  day 

cum  round, 
A  luvvinger  couple,  you'd  ha'  said,  there  couldn't  well 

be  found. 
And  Sally  wur  that  snod  and  smart,  in  ribbins  and  in 

lace. 


BRIMMACUM'S    WEDDING.  57 

Wi'  a  smile  as  looked  like  mischief  upon  her  bonny 

face  ; 
And  her  posy  wur  forget-me-nots,  as  might  ha'  been 

a  hint — 
But  bless  you,  Sam  he'd  no  more  7ious  nor  if  he'd 

bin  a  flint. 

''  But  he'd  getten  t'  lesson  off  by  heart,  an'  when  t' 

parson  said, 
'  Sam,  wilta  ha'  this   woman  as  thou's  cum  here  to 

wed?' 
He  wurn't  nivver  a  bit  flustered,  tho'  he'd  behaved  so 

ill, 
But  spoke   out  bauldly   like   a  man,   '  Ay,  maister, 

that  I  will.' 
And  then  a  light  o'  triumph  shone  in  Sally's  e'en  so 

blue. 
And  when  t'  parson  speared  at  her,  she  answered, 

•  I  will,'  too. 
*  Hey,  Sally,  lass ! '  cried  Sam,  aghast,   *  thou'st  bin 

and  clean  forgot, 
Thou  knaws  thou  tauld  me  thou  would  say,  '  Why, 

no,  that  I  will  not' 
'  Hey,  Sam,  my  lad,  I  knaw  I  did — but  now,  I  think 

thou'lt  find 
It's     quite    eneugh    for     thee    to     knaw    as     /    ha' 

CHAANGED  MY  MIND.'  " 


58  BRIMMACUM'S    WEDDING. 

But  Brimmacum  didn't  change  his  mind,  and  Aunt 

Lucy  said,  "  I  will"; 
And  Joe  declared,  "  In  twenty  year  happen  she'll  say 

it  still ! " 
And  wasn't  the  cake  just  scrumptious !     Trust  me» 

for  you  know  I've  tried, 
And  I  shouldn't    much  mind  a   wedding  myself,  if 

they'd  only  leave  out  the  bride  ! 


PICKLED  COCKLES 

A    QUAKER    STORY. 


In  the  old-fashioned  "  Friendly  "  days, 

When  Quaker  garb  and  Quaker  ways 
Had  not  died  out — when  Quaker  phrase 
Was  heard  in  every  Friendly  greeting, 
And  not  merely  reserved  for  "  Preparative  Meeting  : " 

When  old  and  young 

Used  the  Quaker  tongue, 

Said  "  thee  "  and  "  thou," 

Declined  to  bow, 

And  thought  a  song 

Most  improper  and  wrong ; 
In  the  days  which  we  love — to  hear  about 
(They  were  less  amusing  to  live  in,  no  doubt), 
There  dwelt  just  outside  a  suburban  town 
A  dear  old  Friend  named  Tabitha  Brown. 

Now  Tabitha  Brown  was  clad  always 

In  the  softest  of  drabs  and  most  dove-like  greys ; 


6o  PICKLED    COCKLES. 

With  the  whitest  of  caps  on  her  silver  hair, 

And  apron  and  mittens  and  all  "  to  compare  ;  " 

While  out  of  doors  she  was  just  the  same, — 

Most  spotless,  quiet,  and  free  from  blame  ; 

Her  shawl  was  neatly  folded  in, 

And  kept  in  its  place  by  a  white-headed  pin ; 

The  sweet  placid  face,  'neath  the  silver  hair 

(Showing  lines  of  sorrow,  but  none  of  care), 

Looked  out  from  a  bonnet  quaint  and  shady, — 

She  was  what  one  might  call  a  real  "  Quaker  Lady." 

Thy  excuse,  gentle  spirit — I  apprehend 

Thou  wert  what's  better  still,  a  true  "  Woman  Friend." 

Tabitha  Brown  was  well  skilled  in  the  arts 

Of  making  pies,  and  puddings,  and  tarts ; 

Of  pickling,  preserving,  and  baking,  and  brewing. 

Of  boiling  and  roasting,  and  frying  and  stewing, 

Cheese-pressing  and  churning — 

In  all  sorts  of  learning 
Connected  with  thrifty  household  ways, 
Tabitha  Brown  was  above  all  praise. 
In  fact,  there  was  nothing  she  couldn't  make, 
From  a  whole-meal  loaf  to  a  wedding  cake  ! 

While  for  dusting  and  rubbing, 
And  scouring  and  scrubbing. 
And  subjecting    all    things    to    the    process    called 
"  tubbing," 


PICKLED    COCKLES.  6l 

For  swilling  and  mopping,  for  sweeping  with  brooms, 
For  turning  the  furniture  out  of  the  rooms, 
For  shaking  of  beds  and  for  beating  of  chairs, 
For  taking  up  carpets  and  cleaning  the  stairs ; 
For  polishing  pots,  pans,  dishes,  and  kettles. 
And  everything  else  that  is  made  of  bright  metals  ; 
For  leaving  black  beetles  and  spiders  no  peace. 
For  using  that  article  termed  "  elbow-grease," 
Together  with  soap,  sand,  bath-brick,  and  black-lead, 
Emery  paper  (or  what  was  then  used  instead). 
For  keeping  the  house  without  spot,  speck,  or  stain, 
There  never  was  servant  like  Phoebe  Jane  ! 
In  short,  and  most  boys  will,   I    think,  grasp    my 

meaning, 
She   kept    up   all  the  year  one   perpetual  "  spring- 
cleaning." 

Phoebe  Jane  was  tidy  and  trim. 

But  no  Quaker  dress  could  make  her  look  prim  ; 

And,  notwithstanding  her  "  Friendly  "  gown. 

She  failed  to  resemble  Tabitha  Brown. 

Her  bonnet  and  shawl  were  just  as  plain, 

Yet  they  looked  somehow  different  on  Phoebe  Jane  ; 

While  rebellious  curls  would  sometimes  stray 

From  her  cap  in  a  m.ost  unorthodox  way, 

And,  though  she  persistently  brushed  them  o'er, 

They  only  curled  tighter  than  before. 


62  PICKLED    COCKLES. 

Her  temper,  too,  was  none  of  the  best ; 
And  if  any  one,  either  mistress  or  guest. 
Her  peculiar  notions  chanced  to  offend,  she 

Her  feeh'ngs  expressed 

(It  must  be  confessed) 
In  Quakerly  speech  which  was  not  always  "friendly"  ; 
And  Tabitha  Brown  wrote  these  words  in  her  diary  : 
"  P.  J.'s  heart — it  is  good,  but  her  temper — is  fiery." 

This  quiet  household  contained  a  third, — 
A  jackdaw,  a  really  remarkable  bird ! 
From  the  day  he  left  his  parental  nest 
In  Quaker  language  he'd  been  addressed  ; 
And  he  talked  in  quite  as  "  Friendly"  a  strain 
As  Tabitha  Brown  or  Phoebe  Jane. 

No  schoolboy's  freak 

Had  e'er  taught  him  to  speak 
Of  "awfully  jolly  "  or  "stunning,"  or  "  fine," 

Or  to  whistle  sad  airs 

About  "oysters"  and  "stairs," 
And  "Ehren/'    or   "  Bingen,"   or  "Bonn"  "on  the 
Rhine. =' 

Sedate  and  grave. 

He  knew  how  to  behave  ; 
On  points  of  decorum  his  feelings  were  sensitive  ; 

Friends  scarce  had  erred 

Had  they  sent  this  bird 


PICKLED    COCKLES.  63 

To  the  "  Quarterly  Meeting  "  as  "  Representative." 
Tho'  no  doubt  he  would  not  have  failed  to  declare 
That  he  certainly  "  did  not  expect  to  be  there." 

But  not  even  beneficent  Quaker  law 
Can  eradicate  mischief  from  a  jackdaw, 

And  a  failing  bad 

He  once  had  had, 
Which  is  common  to  all  of  his  species  and  genus 
(Pray  let  it  be  kept  a  secret  between  us) — 
He  had  not  a  conscience  sufficiently  fine 
To  discriminate  clearly  'twixt  "  mine  "  and  "  thine." 

On  thimbles  and  keys. 

Button-hooks  and  green  peas, 

Spoons  ("tables"  or  "teas") 

He  would  suddenly  seize 

Without  saying  "  please," 
And  convey  them  to  places  not  reached  with  great 
ease — 

To  the  tops  of  tall  trees, 

Rocked  by  Spring's  "gentle  breeze." 
Or  to  crannies  thro'  which  your  hand  could  not  squeeze. 

Once,  when  many  degrees 

Of  cold  made  it  freeze, 
And  Tabitha  Brown  'gan  to  cough  and  to  sneeze, 
She  sent  for  her  doctor,  the  best  of  m.d.'s. 
And  this  model  jackdaw  ran  away  with  the  fees. 


64  PICKLED    COCKLES. 

But  'twas  long  ago 

Since  he'd  acted  so  ; 
And  Tabitha  gently  said,  "  Thee  know, 
We  ought  to  have  charity,  Phoebe  Jane  ; 
I  do  not  think  'twill  occur  again." 

Now  of  all  the  receipts  which  Friend  Brown  possessed, 
She  prized  one  more  highly  than  the  rest, 
Which,  from  mother  to  daughter  handed  down. 
Had  for  years  belonged  to  the  race  of  Brown  ; 
'Twas    for    pickled     cockles,     and     Friends    would 

declare. 
When  they  tasted  the  "  Monthly  Meeting  "  fare, 
That  this  dish  indeed  was  beyond  compare. 
So,  though  Tabitha  looked  with  benignant  eyes 
On  the  rapid  consumption  of  puddings  and  pies, 
And  showed,  indeed,  very  small  reserve 
In  the  matter  of  marmalade  and  preserve. 
She  was  somewhat  "exercised  in  her  mind," 
On  entering  the  storeroom  one  morning,  to  find 
That  the  jar  she  had  thought  was  filled  to  the  brim 
With  dainty  molluscs  in  orderly  trim, 
Was  in  truth  half  empty  ;  and  in  some  pain 
She  mentioned  the  fact  to  Phoebe  Jane  : 
"They'll  not  last  until  cockles  come  round  again." 
But  Phoebe  Jane  was  very  cross, 
And,  as  she  gave  her  head  a  toss, 


PICKLED    COCKLES.  ^ 

Replied,  "  I  thought  thee  couldn't  know 
That  the  stock  was  getting  low 

Of  pickled  cockles." 

Tabitha  quietly  withdrew, 

Yet  still,  alas !  'tis  very  true 

That  neither  mistress  nor  maid  could  guess 

How  day  by  day  the  store  grew  less, 

Of  pickled  cockles. 

And  Phoebe  Jane  took  it  into  her  head 
That  her  mistress  didn't  believe  what  she  said, 
And  remarked,  as  she  took  the  breakfast  up, 
"  I  know  thee  think  that  I  dine  and  sup 

On  pickled  cockles." 

And,  though  Tabitha  calmly  assured  her  that  she 
Had  not  the  least  doubt  of  her  honesty, 
Phcebe  still  declared  that  she  couldn't  remain 
If  her  character  wasn't  freed  from  the  stain 

Of  those  pickled  cockles. 

One  afternoon  it  chanced  that  she 
Was  filling  the  little  brass  kettle  for  tea  ; 
When,  turning  round,  with  surprise  she  saw, 
On  the  ground  beside  her,  the  grave  jackdaw 

Eating  pickled  cockles. 
5 


66  PICKLED    COCKLES. 

The  kettle  falls,  the  waters  pour 

Over  jackdaw,  grate,  and  kitchen  floor  ; 

And  Phoebe  cries,  with  excited  feeling, 

"  Ah !  Friend,  I  see  that  thee've  been  stealing 

The  pickled  cockles  !  " 

The  poor  jackdaw  became  very  bald 
From  the  dire  effects  of  that  terrible  scald ; 
He  looked  a  most  deplorable  fright, 
And  he  never  after  could  bear  the  sight 

Of  pickled  cockles. 

For  a  year  and  a  day  this  poor  little  bird 

Never  opened  his  mouth  to  speak  a  word  ; 

At  the  end  of  that  time  an  event  occurred 

Which  caused  his  voice  once  more  to  be  heard. 

Tabitha  Brown  had  a  brother-in-law. 

As  strict  a  Quaker  as  ever  you  saw  ; 

His  coat  was  long,  and  his  collar  was  straight ; 

You  knew  him  at  once  as  a  "  Friend  of  weight." 

He  wore  a  broad-brimmed  beaver  hat. 

And  rejoiced  in  the  name  of  "  Nathaniel  Pratt." 

Now  this  "  weighty  Friend  " 
Came  up  to  attend 
The  famed    "  Yearly  Meeting  "  of  which  you   have 
heard, 


PICKLED    COCKLES.  67 

Which  begins,  so  Friends  say, 

"  On  the  first  Fourth  day 
Which  follows  the  First  day,  in  order  the  third, 

Of  the  Fifth  month."— Pray, 

Might  I  venture  to  say 
That  this  is  rather  a  roundabout  way 
Of  describing   the   third   or    fourth   Wednesday   in 
May? 

*Twas  First  day  morning,  and  eight  or  nine 

Most  "  well-concerned  Friends  "  had  met  to  dine 

At  Tabitha  Brown's.     Nathaniel  Pratt, 

Who  on  the  right  hand  of  the  hostess  sat, 

Still  wore,  sedately,  his  broad-brimmed  hat; 

But  having  thus  borne  his  testimony 

In  a  manner  in  which  he  stood  quite  alone,  he 

Began  to  think  that  he  now  was  free 

To  consider  himself  at  liberty 

To  consult  his  comfort  in  some  degree  ; 

So  he  took  off  his  hat,  and  exposed  to  view 

A  massive  head,  which,  I  assure  you. 

Might  have  served  as  a  model  for  Giunta,  of  Pisa, 

Who  loved  to  paint 

A  benevolent  saint 
As  bald — as  bald  as  Julius  Ca;sar, 
With  a  halo  instead  of  the  laurel  rare 
Which  the  Senate  permitted  the  latter  to  wear 


68  PICKLED    COCKLES. 

To  conceal  the  scarcity  of  his  hair ! 
(For  further  particulars  see  Lempriere.) 
The  jackdaw,  whom  nobody  thought  of  heeding, 
Took  a  lively  interest  in  the  proceeding  ; 
And  though  he  had  never  studied  geology, 
And  had  no  acquaintance  with  natural  laws, 
It  was  plain  to  this  cleverest  of  jackdaws, 
That  effect,  as  a  rule,  must  proceed  from  cause. 
Then,  not  stopping  to  make  the  slightest  apology, 
.  With  a  knowing  air 

He  perched  on  the  chair 
Of  the  "  weighty  Friend  "  who  had  lost  his  hair, 

And  exclaimed  in  his  ear 

In  tones  loud  and  clear, 
But  yet  with  a  touch  of  pity  sincere 
(Inspired,  no  doubt,  by  a  fellow  feeling), 
**  Ah^  Friend  !  I  see  that  THEE've  been  stealing 

The  pickled  cockles. ^^ 

Moral. 

Don't  steal  Pickled  Cockles — fresh  ones  are  not  dear 
And  if  in  your  mind  you  are  not  quite  clear 
Concerning  the  pickling,  look  out  the  receipt  on 
Page  three-ninety-one  of  the  late  Mrs,  Beeton. 
Thirdly,  and  lastly — I  speak  with  due  cause — 
I  should  certainly  strongly  advise  you  to  pause 
Before  you  put  faith  in  the  best  of  Jackdaws  ! 


THE  QUAKER  AND   THE   FAIRY. 


Do  you  wonder  at  my  title  ? 
Wonder  at  the  strange  conjunction 
Of  such  widely  different  beings 
(Different  as  drab  from  scarlet) 
As  a  Quaker  and  a  Fairy  ? 
Listen,  then,  and  I  will  tell  you. 
Tell  you  all  the  wondrous  story 
Of  an  excellent  young  Quaker, 
Much  respected  in  his  Meeting 
By  the  name  of  Joseph  Woodfall. 

Drab  his  coat,  and  drab  his  gaiters, 
And  of  buttons  they  were  guiltless  ; 
And  his  hat  was  made  of  beaver. 
And  its  brim  was  of  the  broadest. 
Plain  his  dress  and  plain  his  speech  was, 
Few  his  words,  but  very  weighty. 
And  he  never  read  a  novel, 
Never  read  a  work  of  fiction  ; 
But  he  studied  Fox's  journal, 


70  THE    QUAKER    AND    THE  FAIRY. 

And  the  works  of  Penn  and  Barclay  ; 

That  was  where  he  found  amusement ; 

Not  in  theatres  or  dancing, 

Not  in  hunting  or  in  rowing  ; 

Bicycles  were  not  invented, 

If  they  had  been  he  would  not  have. 

Wasted  time  in  vain  diversion  ; 

And  he  always  went  to  Meeting, 

Twice  on  First  day,  once  on  Fourth  day, 

Never  thought  a  walk  more  pleasant. 

Never  said  he  had  a  headache, 

Or  his  cold  was  very  serious  ! 

Clerk  he  was  to  Monthly  Meeting, 

Door-keeper  at  the  Yearly ; 

All  the  meetings  he  attended  ! 

Now  this  excellent  young  Quaker 
Fell  in  love  with  fair  Priscilla — 
Fairest  maid  in  all  the  Meeting ! 
And  he  thought,  if  way  would  open 
He  would  marry  fair  Priscilla. 

^any  virtues  had  Priscilla, 
She  was  modest,  neat,  and  tidy, 
Soft  her  voice,  and  sweet  her  temper  ; 
And  in  all  her  household  duties 
None  could  equal  fair  Priscilla. 


THE    QUAKER    AND    THE    FAIRY.  71 

So  he  spoke  unto  the  maiden, 
Spoke  with  serious  words  and  weighty. 
Said  he  saw  his  duty  clearly ; 
Hoped  that  well  she  would  consider 
And  the  same  conclusion  come  to. 
Thus  he  wooed  her,  thus  he  won  her ; 
For  our  Quaker  youths  and  maidens 
Have  hearts  very  much  like  others  ! 
And  the  serious  words  of  Joseph 
Spoke  a  love  as  true  and  tender 
As  the  sonnets  of  a  poet ! 
And  Priscilla's  modest  answer, 
"  Yea,  I  think  I  love  thee,  Joseph," 
Meant  as  much  as  love-lorn  maiden 
Ever  sang  to  knight  of  story  ! 

But,  alas,  no  one  is  perfect ! 
Faults  belong  to  human  nature  ; 
And  Friend  Joseph  soon  discovered 
What  he  thought  a  serious  failing 
In  the  maid  he  loved  so  dearly. 
Too  light-hearted  was  the  maiden — 
Light  her  heart,  and  light  her  footstep. 
And  her  merry,  ringing  laughter 
Vexed  the  quiet  soul  of  Joseph  ; 
For  he  thought  it  was  not  seemly 
To  be  very  glad  and  joyous 


72  THE    QUAKER   AND    THE   FAIRY. 

In  this  world  of  sin  and  sorrow. 

And  she  loved  poetic  stories, 

Loved  the  "  Faerie  Queene"  of  Spenser, 

And  the  bright  and  fair  creations 

Of  sweet  Shakespeare's  wondrous  pencil. 

Found  glad  beauties  in  the  sunshine, 

In  the  flowers  and  sparkling  dewdrops, 

Which,  to  honest  Joseph's  notions, 

Were  but  vain  and  idle  fancies. 

And  she  half  believed  in  Fairies  ; 

Told  him  many  a  tale  of  wonder, 

And  the  while  he  listened  to  her — 

Listened,  puzzled,  yet  enchanted — 

Thoughts  quite  sober  rose  within  him : 

Would  the  habit  of  truth-telling 

Not  be  injured  by  these  stories  ? 

Could  her  "  yea  "  and  "  nay  "  be  sacred 

If  she  meddled  with  these  fictions  ? 

Would  her  wild  imagination 

Lead  astray  the  sweet  Priscilla  ? 

But,  one  evening,  while  he  pondered, 
Much  perplexed  and  puzzled  sorely. 
While  he  wondered  if  his  duty 
Bade  him  leave  his  fair  Priscilla 
(After  words  of  kindly  counsel). 
Bade  him  lead  a  life  most  lonely, 


THE    QUAKER   AND    THE    FAIRY.  73 

Or  seek  out  another  woman 
Not  so  fanciful  or  comely ; 
While  he  pondered,  puzzled  sorely, 
Suddenly,  adown  a  moonbeam. 
Gleaming  through  the  open  casement. 
Came  a  little  tiny  creature, 
Fairer  than  the  loveliest  mortal ! 
Blue  her  eyes  as  heaven's  azure, 
Golden  hair  fell  o'er  her  shoulders  ; 
Dainty  robes,  of  brightest  colours. 
Draped  her  little  dancing  figure. 
She  was  just  the  sweetest  Fairy 
Human  eyes  have  ever  gazed  on  ! 
So  this  little  graceful  being, 
Fluttering  wings  of  gauzy  silver, 
'Lighted,  gently  as  a  roseleaf. 
On  the  outspread  hand  of  Joseph. 
And,  in  tones  of  bell-like  sweetness. 
Said  :  "  O  unbelieving  mortal, 
I  have  come  to  teach  thee  wisdom. 
Dost  thou  fear  that  Fairy  legends 
Will  affect  the  truth  of  woman  ? 
Fairy  tales  are  always  truthful  ; 
Deep  within  them  lies  a  meaning. 
Meaning  mystic,  pure,  and  holy. 
Only  innocence  can  read  it. 
Only  childhood  in  its  freshness, 


74  THE    QUAKER   AND    THE   FAIRY. 

Only  guileless  men  and  women. 
Thou  art  guileless,  O  Friend  Joseph! 
But,  I  fear,  thou'rt  rather  stupid  ! 
Yet,  because  thy  heart  is  honest, 
And  because  thy  tongue  is  truthful 
(Virtue  most  beloved  of  Fairies), 
I  have  come  to  teach  thee  wisdom. 
Come  with  me,  and  I  will  show  thee 
Something  of  this  mystic  meaning, 
Something  of  the  works  of  fancy  !  " 

Honest  Joseph,  looking  downwards 
At  the  little  graceful  being, 
At  the  sweetest  of  the  Fairies, 
Said  :  "  I  think  'tis  not  consistent 
For  a  man  Friend,  staid  and  serious, 
To  be  seen  with  one  so  flighty  ! 
Is  it  seemly  for  a  woman 
To  be  seen  with  hair  unloosened  ? 
With  a  gown  of  gaudy  colours, 
And  with  jewels  vain  and  sparkling  ? 
Cover  up  thy  wandering  tresses 
With  a  modest  cap  of  muslin  ; 
Change  thy  robe  of  flaring  colours 
For  a  gown  more  neat  and  simple  ; 
Then,  perchance,  when  thou  returnest, 
I  will  listen  to  thy  teaching. 


THE    QUAKER    AND    THE    FAIRY.  75 

Try  to  find  the  mystic  meaning — 
Though,  I  fear  me,  weighty  wisdom 
Dwelleth  not  with  one  so  flighty." 

Then  the  Fairy's  merry  laughter 

Followed  Joseph's  admonition, 

And,  without  a  word,  she  vanished. 

In  her  place  there  stood  a  figure, 

Clothed  in  garb  of  Quaker  fashion  ; 

And  the  face  was  grave  and  serious, 

And  the  bright  blue  eyes  were  downcast, 

And  the  golden  hair  was  gathered 

Underneath  a  cap  of  muslin  ! 

Slyly  smiled  she  at  his  wonder, 

But  in  modest  tone  she  queried, 

"  Will  I  suit  thee  now.  Friend  Joseph  ?  " 

Joseph  answered,  gravely,  slowly, 

"  Verily,  thou  art  more  seemly  ; 

I  will  follow  where  thou  leadest." 

Out  into  the  moonlight  dancing 
Went  the  little  Quaker  Fairy  ! 
Honest  Joseph  followed  after, 
Pondering  deeply,  puzzled  sorelj'-. 
Then  she  showed  him  sights  of  wonder  ; 
Nothing  new  she  showed  unto  him. 
But  her  wand  gave  brighter  colours 


76  THE    QUAKER   AND    THE   FAIRY, 

To  the  glorious  works  of  Nature, 
And  he  saw  a  fairer  beauty 
In  the  sparkling  of  the  dewdrops, 
In  the  gleaming  of  the  moonbeams, 
In  the  bright  and  varied  colours 
Of  the  flowerets  in  the  meadow. 
Then  he  heard  a  sweeter  music 
In  the  splashing  of  the  fountain, 
In  the  ripple  of  the  streamlet, 
In  the  song  of  lark  and  linnet. 
And  the  sound  of  human  laughter, 
And  the  songs  of  human  gladness, 
Seemed  no  longer  sad  and  sinful. 
Then  she  showed  him  human  sorrow. 
Comforted  by  sweetest  fancy ; 
Memories  of  happy  childhood, 
Hopes  of  brighter  days  in  future, 
Raising  men  from  weary  sadness 
To  a  cheerful,  bright  contentment ; 
Gilding  many  a  dreary  garret, 
Soothing  many  a  lonely  pillow, 
Bright'ning  life  in  every  dwelling. 

Then  she  turned  and  spoke  unto  him  : 
"  Fear  not  for  thy  wife  Priscilla, 
Wife  she  will  be,  for  I  know  it. 
Sorrow  is  the  lot  of  all  men. 


THE    QUAKER    AND    THE    FAIRY.  77 

Do  not  seek  it  ere  it  cometh. 

Do  not  check  her  gladsome  spirit, 

Happiness  is  right,  not  sinful. 

Let  her  listen  to  the  poets, 

Let  her  tell  thee  tales  of  wonder. 

She  will  lead  thy  sober  reason 

To  the  brighter  realms  of  fancy  ; 

And  her  wild  imagination 

Will  be  sobered  by  thy  judgment. 

Ye  are  suited  to  each  other !  " 

Then  the  Fairy  vanished  slowly  ! 
And  the  excellent  young  Quaker 
Woke  from  out  his  wondrous  slumber. 
From  that  day  a  change  came  o'er  him  ; 
Still  his  hat  was  made  of  beaver, 
Still  its  brim  was  of  the  broadest. 
Still  his  speech  was  plain  and  friendly, 
Still  he  studied  Fox  and  Barclay, 
Still  he  was  a  good  young  Quaker  ; 
But  he  listened  to  Priscilla, 
Listened  to  her  pretty  fancies. 
Did  not  check  her  joyous  spirits  ; 
Nay,  he  sometimes  smiled  to  see  them. 
So  he  married  fair  Priscilla, 
And,  in  words  of  good  old  story, 
"  They  lived  happy  ever  after." 


A    ROMANCE  OF  A  FRIEND'S 
BONNET. 


"  Unless  Virtue  guide  us,  our  Choice  must  be  wrong" 

Penn's  "Maxims,"  256, 


One  First  day  morn,  I  ween, 
At  **  Meeting  "  might  be  seen, 

At  the  end 
Of  a  sober  boyish  row, 
On  a  form  made  short  and  low, 

A  small  "  Friend," 

Feeling  very  new  and  strange, 
Looking  round  him  for  a  change 

To  employ 
His  thoughts,  which  wandered  free, 
For  he  was,  as  all  might  see, 

A  new  boy. 

But  a  short  space  did  divide 
The  men's  from  the  women's  side. 
And  near  him. 


A   ROMANCE  OF  A   FRIEND'S  BONNET.       79 

Also  at  the  short  form's  end, 
Sat  a  little  "  Woman  Friend  " 
Neat  and  prim. 

Her  gentle,  serious  face 

Seemed  to  suit  the  time  and  place ; 

Yet  he  tried 
To  compose  his  thoughts  in  vain, 
They  wandered  off  again 

To  her  side  I 

On  the  form,  before  each  young 
Woman  Friend,  a  bonnet  hung. 

Do  not  smile ! 
Covered  each  in  dove-like  hue  ; 
Fashioned  plainly  in  the  true 

Quaker  style. 

These  bonnets,  he  did  find, 
With  copy-books  were  lined, 

And  he  then 
On  each  neatly-written  page 
Read  the  maxims  grave  and  sage, 

Of  Friend  Penn. 

And  the  bonnet,  which  he  deemed 
To  the  little  maiden  seemed 
To  belong, 


8o       A   ROMANCE  OF  A   FRIEND'S  BONNET. 

Spoke  thus,  with  silent  voice  : 
"  Unless  Virtue  guide,  our  Choice 
Must  be  wrong." 

'Twas  **  Second  Meeting"  day, 
And  the  girls  had  gone  away 

In  grave  state ; 
And  the  boy  then  turned  to  heed 
The  words  the  Clerk  did  read, 

With  due  weight. 

'Twas  Query  number  three. 
Which  the  Clerk  read  solemnly 

Up  above. 
"  Do  Friends,"  the  boy  preferred 
To  translate  what  he  heard, 

"Fall  in  love?"* 

And  in  his  childish  mind 
He  an  answer  seemed  to  find 

Full  and  true ; 
"  To  the  best  of  our  belief," 
Ran  the  wording,  quaint  and  brief, 

"  Yes,  they  do." 

*  III.  Query.  "  Are  Friends  preserved  in  love  one  towards 
another  ;  if  differences  arise,  is  due  care  taken  speedily  to  end  them ; 
and  are  Friends  careful  to  avoidj  and  discourage  tale  bearing  and 
detraction?" — Rules  of  Discipline. 


A   ROMANCE   OF  A   FRIEND'S  BONNET.       8i 

Boy  and  girl  grew  youth  and  maid, 
Trained  beneath  the  firm  and  staid 

Quaker  rule ; 
Their  paths  ran  side  by  side 
For  a  time,  then  severed  wide, — 

They  left  school. 

The  young  man  went  astray 
From  the  good  old-fashioned  way 

Of  his  youth  ; 
His  collar  was  turned  down, 
His  hat,  from  brim  to  crown, 

Changed,  in  sooth ! 

His  bow  had  quite  a  grace, 
And  "  Sunday  "  took  the  place 

Of  "First  day"; 
He  called  "  Seventh  month,"  "  July," 
And  "  business  Meetings,"  "  dry," 

Sad  to  say ! 

Light  literature  he  read  ; 

He  learned  to  dance  ('tis  said). 

When  he  penned 

His  letters  ('twas  a  blot) 

He  wrote,  "  Dear  Sir,"  and  not 

"  Esteemed  Friend." 

6 


82       A   ROMANCE   OF  A   FRIEND'S  BONNET. 

Yet  still  the  maiden's  face, 
And  her  simple  Quaker  grace, 

In  his  heart, 
With  the  words  of  love  and  truth 
Which  he  learned  in  early  youth, 

Had  a  part : 

And  oft,  when  doubts  assailed 
And  temptation  half  prevailed, 

"  Yet  be  strong," 
Cried  memory's  warning  voice, 
*'  Unless  Virtue  guide,  our  Choice 

Must  be  wrong." 

Though  his  behaviour  shocks 
Friends  of  views  orthodox, 

And  minds  deeper ; 
At  "Yearly-Meeting"  he 
By  appointment  came  to  be 

A  doorkeeper. 

"  Would  the  present  be  the  time 
To  receive  Rebecca  Pryme, 

We  would  learn. 
And  another  Woman  Friend 
Under,  as  we  apprehend, 

A  concern  ? " 


A   ROMANCE   OF  A   FRIEND'S  BONNET.       83 

The  young  Woman  Friend  who  bore 
This  message  to  the  door, 

Where  he  stood, 
Wore  a  bonnet,  plain  and  prim, 
And  the  sight  seemed  unto  him 

Very  good ! 

For  beneath  the  "  friendly"  shade 

Was  the  sweet  face  of  the  maid  ' 

(Thus  it  proved) 
Whom,  that  First  day  long  ago, 
When  they  sat  in  silent  row 

He  had  loved ! 

On  no  very  distant  day. 

When  there  seemed  an  '*  open  way," 

And  he  came 
To  her,  and  spoke  his  mind. 
She  too,  he  joyed  to  find. 

Felt  the  same. 

Guided  by  Virtue's  voice, 

Bless'd  was  this  young  man's  choice  ; 

And  the  twain 
In  the  Meeting-house  once  more 
Where  they  sat  in  days  of  yore 

Met  again. 


84       A   ROMANCE   OF  A   FRIENDS  BONNET. 

The  Friends  assembled  there 
In  the  quiet  waiting  share 

With  the  bride, 
And  the  husband,  soon  to  be. 
Who  are  sitting  silently, 

Side  by  side. 

Then  he  takes  her  by  the  hand, 
•  And  the  two  together  stand, 

Ent'ring  life  ; — 
"  Until  our  lives  shall  end. 
Dear  Friends,  I  take  this  Friend 
For  my  wife ; 

"  With  assistance  from  Above 
I  promise  faith  and  love  " 

(Thus  he  saith) 
"  As  befits  the  married  state, 
Till  the  Lord  shall  separate 

Us  by  death.' 


THE  KING'S  PUDDING. 


'TwAS  drawing  near  to  happy  Christmastide  ; 

A  sound  of  chopping,  mingled  with  the  hum 

Of  merry  voices,  reached  my  ears.     The  scent 

Of  plums  and  spices  filled  the  frosty  air 

With  a  rich,  balmy  fragrance ;  and  my  thoughts 

Reverted  to  that  pudding  made  of  old 

In  Arthur's  time.     'Tis  thus  the  legend  runs  : — 

Three  pecks  of  barley  meal  the  King  obtained, 

Some  say  he  stole.     'Tis  well  for  them  the  sword 

Excalibur,  that  mystic,  wondrous  brand, 

Is  safe  within  the  keeping  of  a  maid, 

The  Lady  of  the  Lake. — May  shame  alight 

On    those    who   dare,    with   false   and   slanderous 

tongues, 
T'assail  the  honour  of  the  blameless  king  ! — 
This  meal  King  Arthur  took,  and  with  the  aid 
Of  all  his  knights  and  Guinevere  his  queen 
He  made  the  pudding  so  renowned  in  song ! 


86  THE   KING'S   PUDDING. 

He  rolled  it  out,  then  with  a  liberal  hand 
He  placed  therein  a  goodly  store  of  plums 
And  that  it  might  be  rich,  but  not  too  rich, 
Two  lumps  of  fat  (of  suet  or  of  lard. 
We  learn  not  which,  enough  to  say  'twas  fat) 
He  added,  not  by  weight,  and  not  by  guess, 
Such  clumsy  methods  must  perforce  suffice 
In  these  degenerate  days.     In  Arthur's  time 
Love  brightened  all  the  common  things  of  life. 
And  poetry  was  linked  with  every  act, 
However  humble,  and  so  Arthur  used 
A  standard  worthy  of  a  knightly  king. 
Each  lump  was  fashioned  of  the  size  and  shape 
Of  the  white  dainty  thumb  of  Guinevere  ! 
Thus  closed  his  task.     Then  Galahad  arose 
And  brought  the  bag,  of  samite  pure  and  white 
As  his  own  fame  ;  and  Tristram  tied  the  string 
And  placed  the  pudding  in  a  mighty  pot, 
Which  hissed  and  bubbled  with  triumphant  glee 
As  though  it  knew  the  honour  which  it  gained 
In  being  chosen  from  the  common  herd 
To  boil  a  pudding  fashioned  by  a  king  ! 
For  hours  the  pudding  boiled.     Then  Lancelot 
Essayed  to  take  it  up — for  in  all  feats 
Requiring  steady  eye  and  skilful  hand 
Sir  Lancelot  of  the  Lake  was  ever  first. 
Around  him  gathered  soon  a  brilliant  throng. 


THE    KING'S   PUDDING.  87 

Watching  with  bated  breath  the  dexterous  knight, 

Who  lodged  the  pudding  safely  on  a  dish, 

And  placed  it  deftly  on  the  table  round. 

Then  all  the  Court  did  eat,  and  praised  the  King, 

Whose  knowledge  of  the  peaceful  household  arts 

Was  equal  to  his  prowess  in  the  field  ; — 

And  what  they  could  not  eat,  the  careful  Queen, 

In  loving  competition  with  her  lord, 

Fried  for  their  breakfast  on  the  morrow  morn. 

Then  Enid  took  her  harp  and  sang  the  strain 

Familiar  to  our  ears  from  childhood's  days  : 

"  When  good  King  A  rthur  ruled  this  land. 

He  was  a  goodly  king  ! 
He  took  tJiree  pecks  of  barley  meal, 
To  make  a  bag  pudding  ! 

"  A  bag  pudding  tJie  King  did  make. 

And  stuffed  it  full  of  plums  ; 
And  in  it  put  two  lumps  of  fat. 

As  big  as  my  two  thumbs  I 

"  The  King  and  Queen  did  eat  thereof, 

Aftd  noblemen  beside  ; 
A  nd  what  they  could  not  eat  that  day 

Tlie  Queen  next  morning  fried !  " 

She  ended,  and  in  deep  prophetic  voice 
Grave  Merlin  spake  :  "  Let  future  ages  learn 


;  THE   KING'S   PUDDING. 

A  lesson  from  this  pudding  made  in  sport. — 

Oh,  English  men  and  women  of  all  time, 

Deal   out   your    Christmas    cheer   with  bounteous 

hand, 
But  let  not  sinful  waste  decrease  your  store  ! 
Whate'er  your  rank  or  age  do  not  disdain 
To  stir  the  pudding  for  the  Christmas  board  ; 
So  shall  you  follow  the  example  set 
By  good  King  Arthur  and  his  beauteous  queen." 


DOROTHY. 

(A  TALE  OF  H ADDON  HALL.) 


Gaily  the  lights  are  shining 

In  stately  Haddon  Hall, — 
For  a  bridal  night  must  needs  be  bright, 

And  merrily  goes  the  ball ; 
'Tis  whispered  another  such  wedding 

Will  not  be  far  to  seek, 
For  a  lovely  pair  are  the  daughters  fair 

Of  Vernon,—"  King  o'  the  Peak." 

Oh,  cool  is  the  little  chamber 

Adjoining  the  great  ball-room, — 
And  no  one  wonders  that  Dolly 

Should  rest  in  the  partial  gloom  ; 
And  no  one  recks  of  the  mighty  love 

That  holdeth  her  heart  in  thrall. 
Of  the  tears  that  rise  as  she  sadly  cries, 

"  Farewell  to  Haddon  Hall !  " 


90  DOROTHY. 

She  gently  closes  the  portal 

That  leads  from  Haddon  Hall, 
And  the  stone  stair  faintly  echoes 

The  sound  of  her  light  foot-fall ; 
She  passes  the  lighted  windows, 

And  steals  in  the  night  away. — 
'Tis  the  story  of  old — love  versus  gold, — 

And  love  has  won  the  day. 

There  lingers  a  young  wood-cutter 

In  the  glades  near  Haddon  Hall : 
Yet  never  a  king  of  the  forest 

'Neath  his  axe  need  fear  to  fall : 
He  waiteth  now  in  the  darkness, 

One  hand  holds  his  noble  steed. 
While  the  other  is  laid  on  his  trusty  blade  : — 

A  knightly  churl  indeed  ! 

A  rustle  of  silken  garments, 

A  glitter  of  jewels  rare, 
A  gleam  of  gold  'neath  the  cloak's  dark  fold, 

And  Dolly  is  standing  there  ; — 
One  moment  of  hurried  greeting, 

He  lifts  her  over  the  wall, — 
And  away  they  ride,  that  youth  and  his  bride,- 

The  heiress  of  Haddon  Hall. 


DOROTHY.        ~  91 

A  knight  and  gentle  lady 

Hold  sway  in  Haddon  Hall, 
And  children  fair  bless  the  happy  pair 

And  love  is  lord  of  all. — 
And  a  ducal  race  shall  proudly  trace 

Its  lofty  pedigree, 
Back  thro'  ages  gone,  to  the  brave  Sir  John 

And  the  Lady  Dorothy. 


The  ivy  twines  round  the  turrets 

Of  stately  Haddon  Hall, 
But  Dolly's  face,  with  its  girlish  grace, 

Still  smiles  from  the  old  oak  wall ; 
And  youths  and  maidens  whisper  low 

Of  love  that  can  do  and  dare, 
As  they  rest  awhile  near  the  ancient  pile 

On  Dorothy  Vernon's  stair. — 

They  say  you  are  wronged,  sweet  Dolly, 

By  this  tale  of  Haddon  Hall, 
That  the  course  of  true  love  ran  smoothly, 

And  you  never  eloped  at  all ; 
For  you  were  a  model  daughter. 

As  dutiful  as  fair  ; 
So  you  ne'er  took  flight,  on  that  festal  night, 

Adown  that  old  stone  stair. 


92  DOROTHY. 

For  Sir  John  took  the  orthodox  method 

Of  winning  the  prize  which  he  gained  ; 
And  the  needful  consent  of  parents 

Was  duly  asked,  and  obtained  ; 
So  he  never  stood  in  the  darkness, 

While  the  lights  gleamed  bright  at  the  ball. 
Nor  risked  his  life,  to  claim  as  his  wife 

The  heiress  of  Haddon  Hall. — 

It  does  not  sound  so  romantic, 

But  may  be  'twas  all  for  the  best ; — 
Yet  the  **  peacock  in  pride  "  shows  side  by  side 

With  the  boar  of  the  Vernon  crest ; 
And  the  old  stone  stair  still  standeth, 

And  the  picture  hangs  on  the  wall, 
To  prove  without  fail  the  truth  of  my  tale 

Of  the  heiress  of  Haddon  Hall ! 


"W.  SjicajgJii  *  Sctis,  Pri»i<ers,  tttUv  Lane,  Lor.dcv,  E.C. 


13  6"  14.  FLEET  STREET,    LONDON. 


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Crown  8vo,  cloth,  3s.  6d.     Third  Edition. 

"  I  have  seldom,  if  ever,  read  a  work  of  fiction  that  moved  me  with  so  much 

admiration."— Geokoe  MacDonald. 

Dinah's  Son.  By  L.  B.  Walford.  Crown  Svo,  cloth, 
3s.  6d. 

Hagar  :  A  North  Yorkshire  Story.  By  Mary 
Linskill,  Author  of  "  Between  the  Heather  and  the  Northern 
Sea,"  "  The  Haven  under  the  Hill,"  &c.,  &c.     Crown  Svo,  is. 

Lillo  and  Ruth  ;  or,  Aspirations.  By  Helen  Hays. 
Crown  Svo,  cloth,  3s.  6d. 


JAMES  CLARKE  6^   CO.'S  LIST.  7 

Mertonsville  Park;  or,  Herbert  Seymour's  Choice. 

By  Mrs.  Woodward.     Fifth  Edition.    Crown  8vo,  cloth,  5s. 
Clarissa's    Tangled    Web.      By    Beatrice   Bristowe. 

Crown  8vo,  cloth,  5s. 
Sister  Ursula.      By  Lucy  Warden  Bearne.      Crown 

8vo,  cloth,  5s. 

Priscilla  ;  or,  The  Story  of  a  Boy's  Love.     By  Clara 

L.  WiLLMETS.      Cloth,  IS.  6d. 

The  Cathedral  Shadow.  By  Marianne  Farn- 
INGHAM.  Fifth  Thousand.  Crown  8vo,  cloth,  3s.  6d.  ;  gilt 
edges,  4s. 

The  Snow  Queen.  By  Maggie  Symington.  Third 
Thousand.     Fcap.  8vo,  cloth,  is.  6d.  ;  gilt  edges,  2s. 

BY    AMELIA    E.    BARR. 

"Mrs,  Barr's  stories  are  always  pleasant  to  read.  They  are  full  of  sweetness 
and  light." — Scotsman. 

"  In  descriptive  writing,  in  simplicity  and  gracefulness  of  style,  and  in  perfect 
mastery  over  her  characters,  Mrs.  Barr  can  hold  her  own  with  any  living  English 
novelist." — Glasgow  Herald. 

A  Rose  of  a  Hundred  Leaves.  By  Amelia  E.  Barr, 
Author  of  "  Jan  Vedder's  Wife,"  "  Friend  Olivia/'  &c.  With 
Numerous  Illustrations.  Printed  on  a  superfine  paper.  Hand- 
some cloth  binding.     6s. 

Friend  Olivia.  A  Quaker  Story  of  the  Time  of  the 
Commonwealth.     By  Amelia  E.  Barr.     Crown  8vo,  cloth,  6s. 

J.  Greenleaf  Whittier,  the  Quaker  Poet,  who  has  just  died,  wrote 
TO  Mrs.  Barr:  "My  Dear  Briend,  —  But  for  failing  health  and  sighi,  which 
make  even  a  brief  note  a  paivful  effort,  I  should  long  ago  have  told  thee  how  much 
I  adtnire  thy  FRIEND  OLIVIA.  I  read  it  as  it  appeared  in  '  'I he  Century^ 
and  irtari'elled  at  its  admirable  portraiture  of  the  early  Quakers  and  their  times. 
As  a  Quaker,  I  heartily  thank  thee  for  it.  I  shall  read  it  again  in  book  fonn, 
though  my  eyes  do  not  allow  me  to  use  them  much.  Let  me  tell  thee  that,  though 
I  read  but  sparingly  any  new  literary  works,  I  have  read  every  book  of  thine  with 
great  interest.  I  congratulate  thee  on  their  great  success,  and  am  gratefully  thy 
sincere  friend,— '^onti  G.  Whittier." 

In  a  variety  of  handsome  cloth  bindings,  or  bound  uniformly,  crown  8vo. 

THREE     SHILLINGS     AND      SIXPENCE     EACH. 


In  Spite  of  Himself 
A  Border  Shepherdess 
Paul  and  Christina 
The  Squire  of  Sandal  Side 
The  Bowof Orange  Ribbon 
Between  Two  Loves 
A  Daughter  of  Fife 
Jan  Vedder's  Wife 
*»*  A  new  and  cheap  edition  of  "Jan  Vedder's  Wife  "  is  now 
issued.     In  paper  cover,  price  \s.  6d. 

The    Harvest    of    the    Wind,   and    Other   Stories. 
By  Amelia  E.  Barr.    Crown  8vo,  paper,  is. 


A  Sister  to  Esau 
She  Loved  a  Sailor 
The    Last    of    the   Mac- 

Allisters 
Woven  of  Love  and  Glory 
Feet  of  Clay  {with  portrait 

of  author) 
The  Household  of  McNeil 


MAR  0  6  1986 

JAMES  CLARKE  &^   CO.'S  LIST. 


NOVELS    BY    EMMA    JANE    WORBOISE. 

J\/EIV  AND    CHEAP  EDITION. 

*^  These  Novels,  which  have  hitherto  been  sold  at  Five  Shillings 
each,  are  now  issued  at 

THREE   SHILLINGS   AND   SIXPENCE   EACH. 


Thornycroft  Hall 

MiLLICENT    KeNDRICK 

St.  Beetha's 
Violet  Vaughan 
Margaret  Torrington 
The    Fortunes    of   Cyril 

Denham 
Singlehurst  Manor 
overdale 
Grey  and  Gold 
Mr.    Montmorency's 

Money 
Nobly  Born 
Chrystabel 
Canonbury  Holt 
Husbands  and  Wives 
The  House  of  Bondage 
Emilia's  Inheritance 


Father  Fabian 
Oliver  Westwood 
Lady  Clarissa 
Grey  House  at  Endlestone 
Robert  Wreford's  Daugh- 
ter 
The  Brudenells  of  Brude 
The  Heirs  of  Errington 
Joan  Carisbroke 
A  Woman's  Patience 
The  Story  of  Penelope 

SiSSIE 

The  Abbey  Mill 
Warleigh's  Trust 
Esther  Wynne 
Fortune's   Favourite 
His  Next  of  Kin, 


The  following  y.  6d.  Voluvtes  are  now  issued  at  Three  Shillings  each. 

Married  Life  ;  or,  The  Story  of  Phillip  and  Edith. 
Our     New    House  ;    or,   Keeping  up    Appearances. 


Heartsease  in  the  Family 
Maude  Bolingbroke 


Amy  Wilton 
Helen  Bury 


A  limited  number  of  the  following  Novels,  published  at  Four 
Shillings  and  Sixpence,  are  now  offered  at  Two  Shillings  and 
Sixpence. 

Campion  Court 


Evelyn's  Story 
Lottie  Lonsdale 


Sir  Julian's  Wife 

The  Lillingstones 

The  Wife's  Trials 


1/11/92 


000  560  726 


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